Months To Rebuild, Seconds To Destroy
by blue peanut m and m
Summary: They thought that they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings so there will be references to Sam's rape and abuse. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Months To Rebuild, Seconds To Destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Will probably be mentions of Sam's rape and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Not mine, they belong to Kripkie.**

**A.N. . . . This for all of you out there in fanfic land, who read the last story and asked for a sequel. Hope you enjoy, Peanut x**

"Sam, c'mon it's time to go." Dean hollered up the stairs of their latest rented house.

"I'm coming." Sam shouted back at him.

It was six months since Sam's breakdown in Caleb's bathroom. They'd moved a couple of times since, but had finally settled down in this small, rural town so that Sam could go back to school. Today was his first day back and Dean could tell that he was putting a brave face on things. He really wanted to go back but was scared also. It would mean spending time with other people, talking to strangers and probably the worst of all not being near Dean, being on his own, something that just didn't happen these days.

Things with Sam since his abduction were strange. He would have a period of good days, were he would be normal, still not talking as much or comfortable around others but at least responsive. There were also in-between days were he'd be tearful and want to just hide, but wouldn't be aggressive, just wanted reassurances. These days would clash with the bad days; days were the slightest thing would set him off. These bad days far, far outweighed the good.

On the bad days he would revert back to the empty shell he'd been when they first got him back. On these days he'd alternate between wanting the comfort and consoling, to savagely fighting and resisting all attempts at comfort. The nightmares were still a nightly occurrence as well. Waking up the whole household at times, when they scared Sam that badly he'd wake screaming.

As Sam trudged heavily down the stairs, Dean could tell that this was one of Sam's in-between needy days. His brother was pilled under so many clothes, Dean wondered how he hadn't melted, it was still fairly hot outside. His eyes were red and puffy and although he had attempted to wash away the evidence his cheek still flushed from the shed tears.

"You ready to go?" You sure you don't want breakfast?"

"Dean, I can't do this. Please don't make me go, I'm scared."

It tore at Dean's heart, but he knew Sam had to do this; it would be another step to his recovery that needed to be taken. They'd had the same reaction all last week, the first week of term, and both himself and his dad had relented and allowed Sam to stay off.

"Sam, we need to go. You're going to be late. Just go in, if you feel at any time that you need to leave, I'll come get you. The head knows and will understand but you have to give it a try. What do you say; will you give it a try for me Sam?"

Sam walked further down the stairs and grabbed his coat and bag. "Okay, Dean."

Sam had got through the registration and was now sat in his first class of the day. Registration had passed without incident, although Sam had sat there in silence, as Dean had done all the talking. Once Dean had left though, Sam had become un-nerved and panicky. Walking with the headmistress to his class, he had started shaking and sweating so much he thought he would pass out, but Dean wanted him to try this. He had to try.

Getting through the introduction to the class felt like a day in hell. They were brutal at the best of times, but now when everyone had looked at him, Sam thought they could see right into his head and knew what had happened. That they were all judging him, laughing at what a weakling he was. It felt like a huge relief when he was finally allowed to go sit down, luckily enough right at the back of the class next to the window.

He spent the next half an hour trying really hard not to bolt from the room and concentrate on what his history teacher was saying. Every now and then he could feel the other kids looking at him, but he kept his eyes firmly pointing ahead. Everything was going well until he was asked a question.

His heart began thudding in his chest. His palms were sweaty and he could feel it running down his back also. He secretly wished for the ground to open up and swallow him, as thirty sets of eyes all turned their attention to him. He knew the answer but he just didn't have the courage to respond, his eyes darted this way and that in an attempt to find an escape. Suddenly as he looked outside the window a sense of calm washed over him and with a shaky, quiet voice he answered his teacher.

Once she'd moved on to someone else, Sam allowed his eyes to roam back to what had grabbed his attention outside. Parked as near to the building as possible was the Impala, Dean resting on the hood, getting lots of attention from girls passing by. Every time throughout the day if Sam felt things getting too much, he would just look outside the window and Dean would be there. How, Sam was never sure.

Two months after Sam's first day at school, Officer George Vose was returning to his desk. He had just been called into his captain's office, were he had been subjected to a rather unnerving meeting. The lawyers representing the Burton's had been there also. This was of no surprise to George; they had tried numerous times over the previous months to find out through him where the Winchester's were. But this time was different, after exchanging pleasantries, they had proceeded to inform him that their clients were dropping the case and he wouldn't be hearing from them again.

That was what had spooked George. From now on he'd have to be extra careful when contacting the Winchester's. It just didn't sit well that after all this time the Burton's would back off. Watching as the lawyers left he wondered what was going on. He was supposed to join Sam, Dean and John in two weeks to celebrate thanksgiving at Pastor Jim's house, and his mind was thinking of calling and canceling. Deciding in the end he would wait and see if he saw anything suspicious or anyone following him before doing so. He really wanted to see Sam.

The sound of laughter carried through the open windows, across the fields and into the woods surrounding Jim's house. George, having neither seen nor heard anything suspicious had made the trip. Glad that he had when he saw the progress that Sam was making. He was still nervous around people, but he smiled more and answered questions, although he still wouldn't start a conversation. After dinner, they moved outside. Dean, John, Bobby, Caleb, Joshua and George deciding to throw a football around, Pastor Jim and Sam sitting reading on the porch.

Later that day, and a safe distance away two car doors opened. The car dipped as a tall, sinewy man got behind the wheel, his smaller heavyset partner the passenger seat. Looking into the rearview mirror he spoke.

"We've found him! But there are too many people to do anything."

"Be patient,Stuart. I told you if we waited long enough, the cop would get sloppy and slip up and he did. If we wait a bit longer they'll be careless again and when they are we'll take what we came looking for."

**A.N. . . . This is more of a set up chapter than action, but there's plenty of that to come as well as hurt Dean and of course Sam (I'm sorry but you know me, I don't do fics that don't hurt Sammy). Hope you enjoy! As always a big thank you to all who read, and to those who review too. Peanut x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Months To Rebuild, Seconds To Destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Will probably be mentions of Sam's rape and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer . . . . . owned by Kripkie and The C.W, not me.**

**Chapter 2.**

After spending the night at the Pastor's house; Sam, Dean and John got in the truck for the drive back home. None of them paying particular notice of their surroundings. They passed a car parked at the side of the road it's driver seemingly studying a map, but they thought little of it. When the same car passed them on the interstate it again caused little concern for the trucks occupants.

By the time they had reached the limits of their current town, Sam and Dean were asleep and John fighting to stop himself from joining them. Pulling into the driveway he woke the boys telling them to do their chores before going to bed. Chores for them not consisting of taking out the trash or cleaning their rooms, their chores were salting doors and windows, checking guns were loaded and in place and fixing tripwires in various places around the house. It would be very unlikely that anybody, human or not, would get in the house but if they did they would be ready.

Parked down the street the very same car that had been at the side of the road and passed them on the interstate now sat. Its lone occupant took out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Have you found where they are living now?" Came through the ear piece when the call was picked up.

"Yes, the town's quite small, shouldn't be too hard to grab him. His school would be the best bet."

"Good. I'll be with you soon; we'll find someone to help us."

Putting the phone back in his pocket, Stuart started the car and drove off.

Sam's first day back at school after Thanks Giving had started without incident. The cheeriness from the time spent at Jim's had stayed with him and he was on a good day. For the first time since everything had happened he'd actually been looking forward to going to school. Even the thought that Dean wouldn't be hanging around, he had started a new job so couldn't be there, had not overly dampened the teens spirit.

Having got through the morning and lunch period, he was sitting in double advanced math when there was a knock at the door. A student he didn't know walked in and passed a note to his teacher, who read it quickly before speaking.

"Samuel, the headmistress would like to see you. You can leave your things; it says you shouldn't be long."

Getting up Sam started for the door, surprised but not concerned about seeing the head. His first weeks after starting at the school his head had called him in few times to see if he was doing okay and although she had not done so as much recently he presumed that he was being called for that reason.

Entering the hallway he started for her office, which was on the floor below. Starting down the stairs he moved to the left to allow two jocks to pass, keeping his eyes averted he paid them little attention. He wished he had when he was shoved roughly from behind making him lose his balance and begin to fall forward. Instinctively he put out his hands to try and grab the banister and save himself from falling down the rest of the stairs, but his hands met with just air. With a sickening thud it was his head that collided with the rail, sending him tumbling unceremoniously down the rest of the flight. His vision swimming, he watched as the two jocks descended towards him before he blacked out completely.

Dean was late and Dean was pissed, very pissed. He had been kept back at work for over half an hour after his relief had failed to show. Finally they had managed to get someone else to cover and Dean had rushed to Sam's school. Pulling up harshly outside he was surprised when he didn't see an angry and agitated Sam waiting for him.

Taking out his cell he tried Sam's number, thinking maybe he was waiting inside somewhere. It went straight to voicemail. Getting out of the car he made his way inside and towards the reception area where he knew the heads office was situated, nearly knocking the headmistress over as she came out of the door.

"Mr. Winchester, how may I help you?"

"I'm looking for Sam. I'm late picking him up and I thought he might have come inside to wait."

"I'm sorry, he's not here. I haven't seen Sam all day."

The sound of heals clipping on the floor had both of them turning.

"Mrs. Oliver, I still have Samuel Winchesters belongings. I presumed you had sent him home and just wondered what to do with them?"

Dean's face turned ghostly white; grabbing his phone he quickly dialed his father.

"Dad, get to the school now!"

Mrs. Oliver turned to the young math's teacher. "Why would you presume that I sent Samuel home?"

"You sent for him in the middle of the period. Corey Matthews came for him with a note from you. I thought something must have happened at home and Samuel had left."

"I never sent a note. I think we need to talk to Corey right now! He should be at practice, would you go get him. Have the coach escort you back in case he tries anything. Mr. Winchester would you please come with me?"

Sam came to feeling nauseous from the banging going on in his head. Banging made much worse when he attempted to open his eyes. His right eye was crusted over with blood and refused to open, the left opened but the light in the room forced it back shut again when it reminded Sam of his pain. Gingerly probing at his head he found the source of the blood; a two inch gash just on the hairline. Rubbing the dried blood out of his eye he attempted to open them again.

Glancing around Sam imagined he must have really banged his head much harder than he thought as he took in the sight that greeted him. "This has to be some kind of a bad dream." He mused to himself as his eyes swept over the mattress on the floor of an otherwise bare room. Deep down though he knew it wasn't and his breathing began to hitch.

At the sound of the door opening, he became disturbed. When he saw the person that walked through the door he became hysterical. Struggling with his words and gasping for breath, he softly spoke.

"It can't be you. You're dead!"

**A.N. . . . . . Hope you enjoy, just like the story before two build up chapters before any action, sorry. Thanks for reading, Peanut x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burtons died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Will probably be mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . Sorry the only Sam and Dean I own are the two spiders in the cellar.**

**A.N. . . . . I'm so sorry about the long wait between chapters; I've had family over to stay and didn't want to appear rude by spending all my time writing. They've returned home now so hopefully I'll get back on track. Hope you enjoy, Peanut x**

**A.N . . . . . . Sammysgirl1963 this chapter is a belated present to you. Hope you had a good birthday.**

"It can't be you, your dead!"

"So are suspicions are true. Where is my sister?"

"You're dead. You can't be here."

Sam's hysteria was gripping him completely now, all coherent thoughts were gone replaced with vivid memories of his stay with the Burton's. Shuffling backwards on his bum, he shrank into the corner of the room. All the while repeating over and over again the same words.

"You're dead. You can't be here. Please don't hurt me anymore. You're dead."

Moving forwards the woman gripped Sam's arm and yanked him out of the corner.

"Where is my sister? What did you do to her?"

Again all that she got in reply was Sam's repeated mumbles. Realizing that she would get no help from the confused and rambling child she threw him maliciously back into the corner, not caring when his head connected with the dry wall and he crumpled to the ground.

Storming from the room she shouted. "Corey! Get up here now."

Entering another room that she had furnished with a bed and desk she waited for her young lover to appear.

"What's up?" Corey asked when he finally entered the room.

"I need another favor from you. I'll make it worth your while." The woman sexily drawled her voice now soft and demure.

"Anything." Corey replied, his eyes already lusting over at the thought of what was to come.

Patting the bed beside her she waited for him to sit before running her hands through his hair and kissing him savagely.

"I need you to go back. I need the brother. Bring him back here when you get him."

As the woman's hands groped lower Corey spoke. "Consider it done."

Dean was frantic. Having spent the past hour in the principal's office he was now awaiting his dad's arrival with trepidation. Mrs. Hill the English teacher had returned earlier, informing them of Corey's non appearance at practice and that his close friend Paul Radley was also not there. Dean knew at this point that Sam had been taken again. But by who? It couldn't be just these two students; someone else had to have been involved. Dean had spent the rest of the past hour mulling over who these other people could be.

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of his dad's thunderous, angry voice reaching his ears. Even through the thick, closed office door he could make out every word John was saying.

"Just what the hell kind of school are you running here? How could you let my son be taken out of here? Why did you let him out of class after you know what's happened to him before? I trusted you with my son, how could you let this happen?"

Slowly rising to his feet Dean headed for the door and opened it.

"Dad, stop! It's not their fault."

"What the hell do you mean it's not their fault? Sam was taken from school, how can it not be their fault? They should have looked after him better."

John's tirade was cut short by the entrance of the school's janitor.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Oliver, but I think you should see this."

"What is it? We're rather busy here, as you can see."

"Again I'm sorry. I was cleaning the central staircase and I found blood on the floor . . . . And this."

As soon as the janitor held out the shirt the blood drained from both the Winchester's faces. It was Sam's and it was splattered with blood.

John recovered first. "Dean, go back to the house. Pack up some supplies and call Caleb, tell him to meet us here. Call George too, ask him if he's had any contact from the Burton family."

"Do you think that they could be behind this?"

"I have no doubt that they are, son. There's just no one else that it could be. We won't rule out other options but they are top of the list."

"Dad, if it is them we need to get to Sam and get him back quick. They'll undo all his hard work at getting back to normal. He can't go through any of that again; I don't think we would get him back this time. We need to find Sam, dad."

"Dean!" John shouted. "Get control, son. Store the anger until we find who has taken your brother. Sam needs you to be strong now Dean."

"I'm sorry sir. I'm okay now. What will you be doing while I go back?"

"I'm going to wait for the police and take a look around. I'll be back within the hour." John reached over and gave his eldest son's shoulder a quick squeeze. "We will find him Dean. I promise."

Dean walked quickly through the school and was soon striding purposefully towards the Impala. His thoughts clouded with concern for Sam, his training forgotten as his anguish rose, he paid little attention to the two jocks that were loading football equipment into their trunk.

As he was sticking the key into the lock though his senses became aware of people behind him. Turning sharply he avoided the first punch, that would have connected with the side of his face, unfortunately turning straight into the second.

Dazed, Dean still fought hard with his attackers, managing to land some heavy blows of his own before the left hook of one of the guys had his head snapping back and colliding with the impala.

His knees giving out he dropped to the floor.

The feel of the barrel of a gun against the back of his head had Dean tensing, but it was the spoken words that had him giving up the fight.

"If you don't come with us, Sam will get hurt some more. Don't try anything stupid. If I'm not back within the hour, Sammy dies."

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender, focusing hard he could just make out one of the guys faces before his world turned black. The butt of the gun smashing into his skull.

A constant pounding in his head had Dean rousing sometime later. Becoming aware of somebody softly speaking he attempted to open his eyes, surprised at how hard that simple task was. Finally after much effort he succeeded.

Looking around he appeared to be in some kind room maybe an old office, his feet and hands were bound. Rolling slowly onto his back, he attempted to find the source of the voice he could hear, closing his eyes again sharply when a wave of nausea washed over him. He decided to roll to his other side before attempting once again to re-open his eyes.

After several minutes of deep breathing, he felt well enough to open his eyes. As soon as he had and his vision had cleared, he wished he was still unconscious.

Sam was huddled in the corner of the room. His hands were tied and he was blindfolded, bruises were visible on his neck and peeking from beneath the cloth. Rocking himself backwards and forwards he was softly repeating over and over the words that had so infuriated the woman earlier.

Words that Dean was now able to understand.

"Please don't hurt me again. Please don't hurt me again."

All of this was painful for Dean, but there was worse. Sam was naked.

"Shit Sammy. I'm so sorry."

No sooner had the words left Dean's mouth, when the door opened behind him. Turning his head sharply he was met with another nightmare. The woman entering the room looked exactly like Sherry Burton.

"It can't be you. You're dead." Dean said, unknowingly echoing Sam's earlier words.

"Funny I keep getting told that. Don't worry Dean, your not dreaming, I'm not Sherry. But I would like to know what happened to her. As you can see poor Sammy over there couldn't tell me what I needed to know, even after all the things I did to him."

"You bitch if you've done. . . . . . If you've done that to him I will kill you. Believe me you wont get off as lightly as Sherry did either, I swear."

"Don't you dare talk about my sister like that? Yes that's right Dean, sister. Twin to be exact. I'm Lesley and I want to know what you did to Sherry. I'm going to take Sam to the other room, when we get back be ready with my answers."

Aiming a kick at Dean's face she stepped over his prone body and headed for Sam.

"Corey! Paul! Get in here."

Dragging Sam by his bound wrists she headed for the door, meeting the two guys as they came in.

"Work him over, but don't kill him. I'm going to have a little more fun with our poor Sammy here."

As she left the room with a nonresistant Sam, she could hear Dean's threats echoing around the vast empty warehouse.

"Touch him and your dead bitch! Do you hear me! Dead!"

**A.N . . . . . . Well another chapter down, hope you all enjoyed. This was so hard to write, I just couldn't seem to get back into the swing of things after having a break. Will update soon and thanks as always for reading, Peanut x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Months To Rebuild, Seconds To Destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burtons died, they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Will probably be mentions of Sam's rape and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Still Kripkie's, although it's getting closer to me owning a little bit more of them, if only on dvd.**

**A.N. . . . . . Happy reading.**

John's tirade against the school principal continued again once Dean was out of ear shot, only stopping when the police finally arrived. Question after question followed.

"Was Sam upset over something?"

"Was he likely to have run away?"

"Was there trouble at home?"

"Or at school?"

"Did John ever hit Sam?"

"Did Sam and Dean get along?"

"Did Sam have a girlfriend that he could be with?"

"Was there the possibility that Sam went off somewhere with friends?"

"Did John know of anyone who might want to hurt Sam?"

"Did John, or Dean, or Sam have any enemies?"

"What was Sam wearing?"

"How tall was he?"

"His weight?"

"Eye color?"

"Hair?"

By the time they had finished, the questions were beginning to roll into one and John felt exhausted. He had answered all their questions as honestly as possible, even letting them know of his suspicions about the Burton family.

Leaving the principals office, John took one final look around the stairs that Sam had apparently been taken from before heading outside to his truck. Pulling out his phone he dialed George's number. It had been some time since Dean would've called and John was hoping that the officer would have some information by now. The phone rang twice before the officer's soft tones could be heard.

"Officer Vose."

"George its John. I'm just calling to find out if you've managed to pull up any information yet? I know it's not been long, but I'm desperate to get started."

"John, what are you talking about? What do you mean information? What's going on?"

A cold finger seemed to run down John's spine at George's words.

"Don't mess around with me George. Dean rang you and told you what happen to Sam, you were supposed to be gathering information."

"John, I haven't spoken to Dean since Thanksgiving. What's happened?. . . . . . John?. . . . . . John, answer me?"

John was too busy scanning the parking lot and lost in his own thoughts to hear George though. Not seeing the Impala he shoved the phone back in to his pocket before running back inside. Without knocking he burst back into the principal's office.

"Do you have another parking lot apart from the one out front?" John shouted out.

"Mr. Winchester, please. I know that your upset but I really don't appreciate your tone."

"My tone? My tone? My youngest son was allowed to be taken from your school and now I have reason to believe that my eldest is missing also. Do not talk to me about my tone, just tell me. Is. There. Another. Parking. Lot?"

Mrs. Oliver's face paled significantly and she had trouble stuttering out the answer. Her mind thinking of how bad this would look for her and for the school. Two people taken in one day, the papers would have a field day with this. She finally managed to find her voice as John's fist collided with her desk.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry. Around the back by the gym."

One of the officer's who had questioned John earlier spoke up.

"I used to go here, I'll show you the quickest way."

Before long both John and the officer were crashing through the back doors of the school. John stopping abruptly when he caught sight of his son's beloved Impala, parked up and apparently empty, in the otherwise vacant lot.

Jogging up to the car, John's hunter instincts kicked in. He could immediately tell there'd been a struggle, even before he sighted the blood drops on the ground. The Impala's doors were also unlocked. Something Dean would never allow to happen. Looking into the car he noted something amiss on the back seat.

With patience, John never knew he had, he waited until the officer had walked away slightly to report Dean missing before opening the door and quickly grabbing the item. Stowing the item in the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out his phone and dialed George back up.

"John! What the hell is going on? What's happened? Why did you hang up on me? Talk to me." George rushed out when he recognized John's voice.

"Sammy and Dean are missing. I need you to dig up all the information you can on the Burton family. It has to be them. Do you think that you could get time off and come here to help?"

"What do you mean Sam and Dean are missing?"

"Dean called earlier; Sam wasn't at school when he came to pick him up. We found Sam's shirt and some blood. I sent Dean back to the house to call you and Caleb. When I called you before and you said you hadn't heard from him, I went looking. I found the Impala and more blood." Moving further away so as not to be heard by the other officer, John carried on. "I think they left a message, but I won't know until I get back to the house. Can you get the information and come here?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm owed some vacation, but I'll claim a family emergency. I'll be there by the morning, earlier if I can."

John hung up on George soon after, immediately placing another call this time to Caleb.

"Caleb, get to the house the boys are missing."

Caleb agreed to come straight away, reassuring John that he also would arrive by morning. Walking back towards the car, he waited for the officer to finish his call before speaking.

"I know it's a long shot, but I'd like to go back to the house and make sure the guys aren't there. If they're not, I'd rather be there incase they call. You can question me there, if you need to."

After getting a nod of agreement from the officer, John headed home cutting down the normal drive time by half in his haste to get there. Upon entering he wasn't surprised to find the house empty, nor for there to be no messages. Making his way to the fridge he plucked out a beer, knowing that he was going to need it. Taking the item from his coat pocket he sat there just looking at it, turning it over and over in his hands, not able to find the courage to open it.

It was an envelope, the kind that held photos. He knew it wasn't Dean's, or Sam's, none of the family possessed a camera. Finally opening it up, he took the photos out blank side up. Downing half his beer he prepared to turn them over. John felt the beer rising up again, along with his lunch, at the images that faced him on the glossy pages.

Images of his fourteen year old son. Naked. Alone in some pictures, with a woman's hands touching and kissing his face, his neck, his chest, his thighs in others.

John bolted for the kitchen sink. As he threw up, tears coursed down his cheeks as sobs tore athis throat. The pictures lay scattered across the floor.

Some time had past since Lesley had dragged Sam away from the room that held Dean. She now sat behind the desk in the other room, Sam lay curled up on the bed still mumbling to himself.

After a quick knock on the door Corey entered wiping his hands on a towel. Lesley could see the red of Dean's blood standing out vividly against the white cloth.

"I hope you didn't hurt him too much?"

Corey laughed as he made his way towards her. "Just enough! He's still alive anyway. For some reason he was more concerned about the kid."

"I thought he would be, that's why I had poor little Sammy there stripped. I know all about what they claim my sister was suppose to have done to Sam, so I thought I'd let poor Dean and John believe I'd done the same. Mess with their heads a little bit. I wonder if John has found the photo's yet."

"Well it worked with the tough guy in there. If he wasn't tied up so much, I think he would have killed us and then come after you. What do you plan to do next?"

"Is Dean still awake?"

"Barely, why?"

"I think we need to mess with him a bit more. Give me five minutes and then bring him in here."

Dean hurt. Dean hurt everywhere. From head to toe he didn't think that there was an inch of him that didn't cause him pain when he moved. The two guys had really worked him over, but throughout it all Dean could only think of Sam.

To see Sam reverted back to a state worse than before was like a knife to Dean's heart. Thoughts raced through Dean's mind.

What had happened to Sam?

Was that bitch molesting Sam, just like her sister had?

Had Sam been raped again?

How would they help Sam recover this time?

Could they help Sam recover this time?

Would Sam want to recover this time?

Dean could only hope that their dad would be able to find them soon. Although he was unsure how that would happen. It was after all pot luck that they had found Sam at all, last time.

Sounds broke through the despair that was threatening to engulf him, somebody was coming back. Rolling himself over so that he was facing the door he waited for it to open. He wasn't getting beaten again with out some sort of fight.

Dean was not surprised when the two goons from before came back in. As their hands made to grab him, Dean struck. Using his bound wrists and all the force his body could muster from his prone position he lashed out, at the one he'd heard called Corey, catching him squarely on the nose. As the blow connected Dean was satisfied at hearing the loud crunch.

Corey's hands went straight to his face as his now broken nose started bleeding. Profanities spewed from his mouth. The other guy reacted quickly, striking out at Dean with his feet. Dean was doing well blocking Paul's blows until Corey spoke up.

"Stop it Paul. That won't hurt him." He told his friend before turning to Dean. "You really are a stupid son of a bitch aren't you? You see I know punishing you won't hurt you, but what if I punish Sammy for what you did? Now that, I'm guessing, will hurt you a lot."

Both guys watched as Dean deflated before them. What had he done? Sam was now going to be hurt because of him. All fight left Dean, replaced with yet more crushing feelings of guilt.

"Grab him Paul. He won't risk Sam by fighting with us anymore. Lesley wants him next door."

Dean felt the carpet burning his skin as he was dragged into the other room. Felt all the aches and pains returning. Felt the taste of defeat in his mouth. Felt absolute uncontrollable anger and great sadness at what he saw when he was finally dropped to the floor.

He was in a room that held only a bed and a desk. On the bed was his naked, younger brother. Lesley was on there too, also naked. Her hands were roaming Sam's chest, her mouth was kissing his mouth, his face, his neck.

"No,no,no,no,no, no,no!" Dean shouted.

Sam, his blindfold now removed, turned his head in the direction of his brothers voice. Two sets of eyes met briefly before Sam's continued on its search. One set anguished and tearful. The other set dead and empty.

**A.N. . . . . Sorry that this chapter is written all in bold, didn't realize until I'd got near the end and being not very good with computers wasn't sure if I could fix it without having to re-write. I was too caught up in the fact that I had actually written a chapter that I liked. I really love this chapter and I hope you all do too.**

**As always I appreciate you all taking time out to read my fic, thank you. And thanks too, to all the reviewers. Catch you soon, Peanut x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Will probably be mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Nope not mine, still on a loaner.**

**A.N. . . . Would like to give a shout out to liveisboringfictionisbetter, thanks for the advice it worked so I'll re-post the chapter again. There's a bit of language in this chapter, sorry. Happy reading, Peanut x**

Feelings of guilt were crashing over George Vose and had been ever since his second phone call with John. Some how he knew that Sam and Dean's kidnappers had gotten to them through him. What the hell had he been thinking?

He knew that he'd been followed a few weeks previous to Thanksgiving but because he'd not seen or heard anything leading up to the day he'd taken a chance. His need to see the young boy who he'd taken into his heart had over ruled his gut feelings that were telling him not to go. Now it seemed his gut was right. He'd been followed and both young Winchester's had been taken.

Although he'd been a policeman for years and was hardened by sights he'd seen, tears filmed his eyes as he thought back to the first time he'd seen Sam. Thoughts rushed his mind, thoughts of what could be happening to Sam. No! He told himself. I refuse to believe that he's going through that again. But deep down, he knew that Sam possibly could be.

Pushing his foot down a bit harder, he urged his old car on. He needed to get to John and they needed to find Sam and Dean, now!

A few hours later and George was skirting the town's limits. Finding the Winchester's house was no problem. Like most town's George knew the cheaper places tended to be on the outskirts. Pulling up outside, he sat in the now quiet car not quite sure he could go in and face John knowing that it was his fault his children had been found.

Eventually George knew he was wasting time just sitting there. Precious time that Sam and Dean didn't have. He pushed open his door and after locking the car he made his way up the path.

Even the thought of John's wrath wasn't enough to take George from his new goal. The finding and safe return of both Winchesters. If John felt the need to kill George for what he'd done, George was willing to let him, but only after this goal had been completed. It was with this thought in mind and a heavy heart that George knocked on the door.

John had heard the sound of a car pull up outside. He had heard the footsteps coming up the path. He had heard the knocking on the door. But he wasn't bothered and was far too wasted to try and get up to answer.

Sitting on the kitchen floor, fridge door wide open, empty beer bottles surrounding him, John had spent the night unable to stop himself from looking at the photo's of Sam. Every time he looked he got more and more nauseous, throwing them down in disgust as his stomach rebelled and he'd vomit into the kitchen sink. But every time the tears subsided he couldn't help but pick them up and look again.

Beers eventually helped and he'd managed a fitful hour of sleep earlier, but dreams of Sam had played over and over and he'd eventually woken back up feeling infinitely worse. Feelings of complete and utter worthlessness washing over him, prayers and cries for forgiveness to Mary spilling from his mouth.

"Please forgive me for what I've let happen to our son's."

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect them, keep them safe."

"Help me find them."

"Help me find the strength to bring them back from this."

"Please Mary; help keep our son's safe."

It was only when he heard a soft coughing, that John realized he wasn't alone in the room anymore. He fumbled in his alcohol induced haze for the gun he'd placed by his side earlier, but remembered suddenly, when his hand touched nothing but empty bottles, that he'd thrown it at the wall in a fit of rage earlier. Attempting to stand, he found he couldn't and crashed back to the floor, where he began to lash out with his legs.

"John! John! Stop it! It's me George, stop fighting me."

George had to repeat himself a few times before John relaxed. Through squinty eyes John looked at George.

"George, they took my boys. They took my boys, George."

Fresh tears ran down John's face as George bent and attempted to help the younger man stand.

"C'mon John, lets get you settled in the other room and I'll clean up in here and get some coffee on the go."

George had managed to get John halfway up when he started to struggle in his arms. Unable to stop him, John returned to the floor, where he scurried around picking up, what looked like to George photos, mumbling to himself but just loud enough for George to hear.

"You can't see these. You can't see these."

When he'd finished he'd finally allowed himself to be led into the other room. George deposited him on the couch where John promptly passed out. George stayed by his side for an hour before standing back up and returning to the kitchen. He was just setting foot in the other room when he heard the thunderous roar of Caleb's truck outside. Walking back to the front door he opened it as the younger man walked up the path.

As Caleb walked into the house he noticed the passed out John Winchester straight away. Turning to George he spoke.

"Fuck George! What the hell has happened?"

"I just got here myself about an hour ago, found him on the kitchen floor surrounded by beer bottles. Something bad must have gone down."

"You aint kidding me! I've rarely seen John drunk. Passed out? Never. He'd never risk losing the kids. What the hell is going on?"

"I have a feeling that it has something to do with those photos he's grasping. But if you try to remove them he grips tighter. I'm gonna make some coffee and try and get him sober. We need to start making plans."

With that George started back for the kitchen, leaving Caleb to watch over John. While waiting for the water to boil George started cleaning up the remains of John's bender. As he bent down, to pick up a bottle that had rolled next to the table, his eye was caught by the shine off a glossy piece of paper.

Reaching under the table he pulled the paper out. It was one of the photos, John having missed it. Its glossy side was turned away from George. He sat there contemplating whether or not to turn it over, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. He turned it over. He had to know what had sent John on such a self destruct path.

Georges stomach, as John's had earlier, rebelled at the image ingrained on the paper. Breathing deeply he fought to regain control, eventually he managed it. Getting up slowly he moved back into the living room.

"Caleb! You need to see this."

"What?"

George didn't answer, just passed the photo over. Caleb looked at it briefly before grabbing the lamp off the end table and sending it crashing into the wall.

"Fuck!" Was all he could muster to say.

The crash of the lamp had roused John slightly. His eyes opened and he strained to focus against the pounding in his head. He looked eventually into both George and Caleb's sorrowful eyes before looking at his clasped hand surrounding the photos of Sam. Even though they where still there John knew that they knew. Fresh tears fell.

Caleb took charge; obviously John hadn't wanted them to know about Sam, so for the time being he decided not to mention it.

"Hey John, we need to get you sober. Go take a shower then have some of George's coffee. We need to get started."

"Caleb. . . . " John started but Caleb cut him off.

"John get in the fucking shower, now! We don't have time for your self pity party, move soldier."

John looked ready to argue, but one look at Caleb's face told him that the younger man would drag him to the bathroom if need be. Reluctantly he headed for the shower. Once he'd left the room Caleb turned to George.

"Make some coffee, the stronger the better. If I know John, coffee will be all the supplies he'll have got here. I'll go and get some food."

John felt mildly better after his shower. His head still throbbed, his stomach still rolled and guilty feelings were still all he could think of, but he felt better. Toweling off quickly, he pulled on a pair of jeans before walking bare chest into the kitchen, he was sure he'd heard Caleb mention something about coffee.

Entering the room he was surprised to see just George there.

"Hey George, any of that coffee going spare?" John sheepishly asked, his embarrassment at being found drunk by his friends showing in his unwillingness to look George in the eye.

"Yeah sure, black ok?"

"Think I need it that way. Where's Caleb?"

"Gone for food, he should be back soon. Listen John, about what we saw in the photo. . . . "

"Not now George."

"Did you show them to the police?"

"No."

"What? Why?"

"I have my reasons not to involve them. We'll find the boys ourselves."

"But they can help. We need to tell them."

"No."

"But. . . . . "

"I said no George. We find the boys and deal with the takers ourselves. Caleb and I will understand if you chose not to be involved."

George sat there; he'd always thought but never known for sure that John and his friends had killed Sherry and Graham Burton. Now though, with the look that John had just given him when mentioning the boy's takers, he had no doubt.

The only question remaining for George was could he be part of murder? George thought of the photo he had seen and of how he had found Sam all those months ago. He thought of the progress Sam had been making and of how all that progress had now come crashing back down. With no more doubt in his mind he knew the answer.

"I'm in John, all the way."

The sound of the front door opening had both guys turning in that direction. Caleb's voice ringing out.

"You two should come and see this."

Getting up the two men walked into the other room. Caleb stood towering over the sofa John had occupied not too long ago. The sofa that now contained a trembling boy that looked to be about Dean's age.

"Caleb, what's going on? Who's this?"

"I've know idea. I found him sneaking around outside. He looked like he was delivering something. When I showed up he tried running. When I caught him, he just kept saying "It wasn't his idea." Figured I should bring him in here. He had this on him."

Caleb handed the package to John. It was a brown A4 sized envelope addressed to John. Ripping it open, John emptied it of its contents. Looking up at the guys he showed them what it was.

A videotape.

**A.N . . . . . So another chapter finished. I hope you enjoyed and don't worry I haven't forgotten about the boys, they'll be back next chapter. Thanks for reading, Peanut x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Will be mentions of Sam's rape and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still hoping and wishing, who knows maybe one day!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . Some bad language I'm afraid, you have been warned. Apart from that, take a seat, relax and enjoy chapter 6.**

"What the hell is this?" John asked the obviously frightened boy. "Where the hell are my son's?"

The boy just continued to shake on the sofa, unwilling to look at an obviously blazing John. At getting no answer John turned to Caleb and George.

"Caleb, take him into the boy's room. George, go with him. I want to watch this on my own first."

Caleb grabbed the boy by his hair and proceeded to drag him upstairs and into the small bedroom. George hung back, wanting to tell John of his guilt, but he knew that now was not the time. After taking one more glance at John he followed Caleb upstairs.

John waited until he heard the boy's door shut before he placed the tape in the recorder and turned on the TV. Pressing play he watched as the grainy image changed into a clear picture of a room. A look of confusion crossed his face. What was this? Why would somebody send him a video of a room? Suddenly the image changed and John knew why.

Although slightly unfocused, John immediately recognized his eldest son. John watched as his son was dropped harshly to the floor. He could tell that Dean had been beaten, that he was hurting. His face was a mass of bruises and blood could be seen trailing from a cut above his eye, but John knew that there was worse than that, he could tell by the way Dean was holding himself.

John watched as Dean's eyes roamed around the room. He watched his son's face tighten. He watched his eyes widen and his mouth drop open. Although there was no sound, John didn't need it to understand what Dean was saying. NO,NO,NO,NO,NO. He watched as Dean's eyes filled with tears, John's mind going into overdrive at what could be upsetting his son so much. He knew it had to concern Sammy, but what?

The camera panned out slowly, almost as if in answer to John's question and for the first time John saw what had upset Dean so. Sam on the bed with that bitch.

"You sick, sadistic, son of a bitch."

John's face was beet red with anger and the TV forgotten as he stormed up to the bedroom. Flinging the door open he rushed at the boy sitting on Sam's bed. His hands gripped the boy's throat as he hissed out through gritted teeth.

"Where the fuck are my boy's?"

As the choking got worse, George and Caleb attempted to remove John. Finally they succeeded, Caleb pushing John to the other side of the room, as George checked the boy.

"John, what the fuck! What happened? What was on the tape?"

"Dean. . . . . "

"What about Dean? Is he okay? Is he still alive?"

"They showed Dean."

"Showed Dean what?"

"Those bastards showed Dean, Sam being molested."

"Fuck!"

John went on to tell them that Dean had been beaten also. All the while he refused to take his eyes of the boy on the bed. Eventually George spoke to the lad.

"What's your name?" George asked, keeping his tone neutral.

"Paul Radley."

"Okay Paul, where are Sam and Dean?"

Paul refused to answer.

"Fine if you don't want to talk, how about I leave you in here with my friend over there." Paul paled, but George hadn't finished. "Oh, I don't mean John there; no he'd kill you far too quickly. I mean Caleb; he's much more sadistic and slower."

Paul's eyes widened, as his face went even paler.

"Now I'll ask you one more time. Where are Sam and Dean?" George inquired, giving Paul a smack across the mouth for good measure.

"I don't know."

"Now why would you lie to me after I've been nice to you? I guess you thought I was joking? Well you leave me no choice now. Caleb, get the information out of him, John come with me."

George got up and pushed a reluctant John out of the room. Both of them watching as Caleb strode across the room, cracking his knuckles as he went. As the door closed behind them John turned to George.

"What the hell are you doing? I should be in there. Let me back in."

"No! You'll be of no use in that room John. As I said you'd kill him before he told you where the boy's are and then where would we be? You need to come with me. I have some things I need to show you and I need to tell you some things also."

Returning downstairs the two men entered the kitchen. George made sure John was seated before he retrieved something from his bag. It was a folder containing all he'd managed to find out about the Burton family. Taking out a photo he slid it across the table to John. Picking it up, John looked at it before speaking.

"Why are you showing me a photo of Sherry Burton? She doesn't have the boy's. She's dead."

"I kinda figured she might be. But John, that's not Sherry."

"Of course it is, I'm not blind."

"It's not Sherry John; it's her twin sister Lesley David."

Realization dawned on John's face as he looked once again at the picture. If this was who had the boy's, then the psychological damage to Sam didn't bare thinking about.

"I dug around like you asked; she's been the one making all the noise about her sister's disappearance. She's the one who's been having me followed."

John looked up at this but didn't comment.

"Yes, John. I was the one who led them to you. For weeks I knew I had been followed, but they seemed to stop before Thanksgiving. I wanted to see how Sam was doing and to see the rest of you guy's so I took a chance. I'm sorry. I'll understand if you want to kill me, but could we get the guy's back first?"

John still looked at George and he noticed the sincerity and love for his boy's he saw there.

"I'm not going to kill you, George. It wasn't your fault they found us."

It was George's turn to look up this time.

"George, they might have followed you to Jim's place, but they followed me back here. I let my guard down. I got sloppy. It wasn't you, it was me."

"But they wouldn't have found you if. . . . . "George's words trailed off as John cut in.

"There's always going to be an if, George. If I hadn't have been hunting the first time. If Dean hadn't let Sam go to the store. If another child had walked past before Sam did. If we hadn't have gone to Pastor Jim's. If we had both been a bit more careful. There's always an if."

George couldn't answer, his emotions overwhelming him. John left him to his thoughts for a few minutes before speaking again.

"What else did you find out?"

George cleared his throat a couple of times before proceeding to tell John everything he'd found out.

"She's forty two. Has money and lots of it. She's never married, no kids. She has a liking for younger guys." At seeing John's face he quickly added. "Not usually Sam young, John. I found properties listed in her name all over the country and some oversees. No arrests. We need that guy to give her up otherwise we're screwed. She could be anywhere and with her money it would be easy for her to have left the country already." George finished.

Both men sat there taking in all that had been said, but no more words were spoken. John was still staring at Lesley's picture, George reading some more information, when Caleb entered the kitchen twenty minutes later.

"I have a where abouts, we need to move now!"

"Where?" John asked at the same time as George asked. "What about him?"

"She owns a warehouse about an hour from here. The kid didn't know the exact address; I was hoping George could help with that. As for him, he won't be waking anytime soon."

George visibly blanched, he was still getting use to the idea that he might have to kill someone and hadn't quite gotten there yet.

"You haven't killed him have you?"

A look of mock indignation crossed Caleb's features and he held his arms spread out as he answered.

"Me! George you hurt my feelings! What kind of guy do you take me for?" He teased. Noting that George was serious Caleb added. "No, he's out cold and tied up and when he does wake up he's gonna be hurting, but he's not dead, not yet anyway. He's stuffed in the guys' closet. Now are we going?"

"Caleb, get the supplies we need from my closet. George check your findings, I need an address. I'll get the truck ready and make sure the first aid kit is stocked. We leave in five!"

Dean was dragged back into the other room after Lesley had shown him her sick act. Paul and Corey had not been able to resist throwing more punches and kicks in, the resulting beating had Dean screaming in agony as he felt a rib or two breaking. He had been lying as still as possible to avoid aggravating the injury for several minutes when the door opened and Corey unceremoniously threw Sam into the room.

"Sammy." Dean whispered quietly as he attempted to crawl across the room to his stricken brother.

Sam, hearing somebody speak but not registering it as Dean, started to cower away.

"Sam, please it's me. It's Dean." Dean tried reassuring his brother, all the while getting closer and closer.

Eventually Sam had nowhere to go. His back hit the corner of the room. He started crying as he felt someone coming nearer and nearer. Dean could see Sam getting upset, his heart breaking at the thought that it was him making his brother this way. Reaching out he grasped Sam's hand, feeling him flinch underneath as he did so. All the while he kept up the steady stream of reassurance.

"It's me Sam, it's Dean. Don't be afraid, I'm here now."

Moving in closer he took his terrified brother in his arms and hugged him to his chest. Sam struggled in the confines but Dean was persistent and refused to let go. His perseverance paying off when Sam started to calm down and eventually stopped his vain attempts to dislodge Dean.

"Hey Sammy, I know your hurting, but big brothers here now and dad will be soon." Dean spoke.

He'd not expected an answer, so wasn't surprised when none came. Without letting go of Sam he started to unbutton his shirt. Resting Sam against his chest when he'd done, he proceeded to remove it from his arms.

"Hey Sam, I need you to sit up for me while I try and cover you up some. Can you do that for me?"

Sam responded almost robotically to Dean's request and with a bit of effort Dean managed to get the shirt onto his brother. After fastening up the buttons, he pulled Sam back into his arms. Talking to him softly all the time.

"I'm sorry Sam. I promised you that I'd never let you get hurt by anyone again and I failed. I'm sorry that I let them get to you. I hope that one day you'll be able to forgive me. You can't let them win Sam. You can't let them beat you. You're the strongest person I know; don't let them beat that out of you. I need you with me. I need you to come back from this. I know you can beat this Sam and if you'll let me I'll be with you all the way, I promise. I know my promises don't amount to much at the moment, but this one I will never break. Just find your way back Sam, please."

By the time he had finished Dean had tears flowing down his face, but at least Sam seemed to be sleeping, or so he thought. Still holding onto Sam and stoking his arm gently, he very nearly missed the whispered word.

"Dean?"

Jumping in fright at the unexpected sound of his brother's voice, Dean forgot about his injured ribs. The resulting movement causing a stab of pain, which in turn brought on a fit of coughing. It was several minutes before he could get the coughing under control and ease himself back down with Sam once again resting in his arms.

Wiping at the spittle on his face, he brought his arm back down and around Sam once again. As his hand rested on Sam's chest something caught his eye, the moisture he'd wiped from his mouth was red.

**A.N. . . . . . Sorry yet another cliffy! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, I'll try and not keep you waiting too long for an update. I know John's a tad un-John like at one point but I like George and wanted to keep him in the story. Thanks as always for reading, Peanut x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Months To Rebuild, Seconds To Destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. There will be mentions of Sam's rape and abuse. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Not mine, well not in the real world anyway!**

**A.N. . . . . . Hey guess what I've done it again! I've written a chapter that I really like! Hope you all get the same feeling. So that being said, enjoy and thanks for reading, Peanut x**

**A.N.2. . . . Sorry for the delay, was feeling rough yesterday and didn't want to go to work never mind post anything. Feeling a bit better now though so here's chapter 7. Peanut x**

Something was wrong. Lesley could feel it. She'd sent Paul with the tape over an hour ago and he'd not called as planned. Although she didn't want to believe it, she knew that he'd been caught. The question that was now on her mind was could she hope that he'd only been caught by the police?

No she knew he hadn't, she knew somehow that the boys' father had Paul and this made her angry. Everything had been going according to plan and that stupid kid had to go and fuck it all up.

People had warned her about recruiting the two guys but she'd let her heart over rule her head and now it seemed she might pay for it.

Taking out her cell she made a call to an acquaintance, she was just finishing with him when Corey entered the room and walked over to where she was sat behind the desk. She knew what she had to do.

Lesley felt Corey's hands massaging her neck, something that would normally soothe her but for some unknown reason today it bothered her. All she could think about was the young boy in the other room. She had meant her molestations to have been a way to hurt the Winchesters, But for some reason she couldn't stop thinking of Sam. The softness of his skin, the youthfulness. Lesley found herself shuddering just at the thought of him.

She roughly brushed Corey's hands away. With her back to him she couldn't see the look of hurt cross his face, nor did she see the look of anger that quickly replaced it.

"What's the matter with you?" Corey asked. His tone filled with hostility.

"Nothing! We just don't have time for this. You know that Paul's not called like he was supposed to. The Winchester father could be on his way here as we speak. Bring the boy in here."

"Great, you don't have time for me, but you have time for him?"

Lesley's skin crawled at the whininess in Corey's tone. Turning round she pushed him harshly away from her.

"Do not forget who the boss here is. Go and get me the boy! If the other one tries to stop you, hurt him."

She pushed again at Corey for emphasis before resuming her place behind the desk. Regaining his balance and hurt once more registering on his face Corey left to get Sam. Lesley watched him go. Yes, she knew now what she had to do.

Sam had finally fallen asleep resting against Dean's chest as his exhaustion had finally overcome his fears. Dean, although uncomfortably, was unwilling to move. His battered side protested the position he was in and every time he breathed he had to stifle a groan as a stab of pain shot through his body. But moving would mean waking Sam and no matter how much pain he was in, Dean was reluctant to do that.

As he sat there he looked over his little brother, checking him out for injuries. Aside from the cut to Sam's head and some bruises to his face, legs and arms, Dean could see nothing he needed to worry about. He already knew though that most of Sam's damage was on the inside, damage that Dean and his dad wouldn't be able to fix with a quick course of pills and a band aid. No there was no easy fix for Sam's pain.

Dean tried to think positive; he hadn't seen the bitch do. . . . .that to Sam, but that didn't mean that she hadn't. He could only hope that it hadn't gotten that far.

He was still contemplating this when the door crashed open startling his younger brother awake. Sam pushed against Dean in his haste to try and hide his mind still too sleepy and damaged for him to realize what he was doing.

To Dean the result was instantaneous, the movement of his ribs triggering another round of coughing. Stars danced before his eyes and he fought to take in much needed air, while at the same time not move his busted ribs.

Corey laughed at the sight before him. Lashing out with his foot he booted Dean in his already damaged side. Although Dean had been trying to protect it with his arms, there was force behind the kick and he felt the ribs move again.

Sam had backed up into the corner again at the sound of the door opening. His eyes seemingly unseeing. At the sound of Dean's grunt of pain though something seemed to trigger inside of him. Dean was here and Dean sounded hurt. At the sound of Dean's coughing, what seemed like a kick and Dean's second grunt of pain, Sam's eyes glinted.

Although he was so terrified he could barely move, his mind registered that Dean was hurting, that Dean was in trouble. For as long as he could remember Dean had always looked after him, had always protected him. If something were to happen to Dean, who would protect him now?

No, nothing could happen to Dean. He had to stay safe, he had to be okay. Sam couldn't do this alone, he didn't want too. Making his choice Sam started to move. He had to protect Dean, so that Dean could protect him.

Corey stopped laughing and looked around as a feral roar filled with hurt, anguish, anger and fear filled the room. He was surprised to see the boney, scrawny kid on his feet. Another laugh escaped his lips as he thought to himself, what the hell does this kid think he can do? Hurt me?

Corey hadn't anticipated Sam's rage though. As he thrust forward Sam brought his fists up. Saving Dean was the only thing on his mind. After the first punch landed heavily to his jaw, Corey realized his mistake. The kid was angry and emotionally disturbed, he wasn't thinking and that made him dangerous.

He managed to side step Sam's next blow, landing one on the younger boys head at the same time. Blows were exchanged between them, some landing, some not. After Sam had managed another stunning blow to Corey's jaw, the older boy realized he had to finish this and finish it quick. A thought came to his head and he spoke up.

"Watch out Sammy. You better stop or we'll tell Sherry."

The fight deflated from Sam in an instant. His former captives name being mentioned bringing all his hurt and fears crashing back. Corey took advantage and pushed Sam hard against the wall. Sam's already damaged head collided with a sickening thud and he fell laxly to the floor. Blood once more seeping from the wound.

Dean could do nothing but watch from his prone position on the floor. His breathing was still short and ragged but at least the coughing had stopped. As Sam deflated at the mention of Sherry's name, Dean tried to move towards him. As he watched Sam being thrown into the wall and drop, He cried out.

"Sammy!" Turning to Corey he carried on. "You son of a bitch. I'm going to kill you!"

Corey laughed again as that one sentence had Dean coughing once again, blood splattering the floor around him. Striding over to Sam, but making sure Dean could see all that was about to happen, he grabbed his hair and roughly pulled the unconscious boy up. Bringing his arm back he struck Sam repeatedly in the face. Dean's coughing competed with harsh sobs, at what he was being forced to witness, the remaining air being stripped out of his lungs.

Corey dropped Sam back down and strode back over to where Dean lay struggling for breath. Still laughing he aimed more and more kicks into Dean's side before bringing his leg back one last time and smashing it into Dean's head. Dean was unconscious even before his head stopped moving.

Going back to Sam, Corey roughly tore Dean's shirt back off him. Grasping one of his ankles he pulled the once again naked, unconscious boy back into the other room and Lesley.

"What the hell took you so long?" Lesley angrily asked as Corey came back in.

"I had a spot of trouble." Corey replied, as he wiped at the sweat that had gathered on his lip. "Where do you want him?"

Lesley looked at Sam, her anger intensifying at his bloody and unconscious state. She had wanted him awake. Her anger at Corey grew and she knew she was doing the right thing.

"Stick him on the bed and then come back over here." She purred. "Lets have a drink; I think we both need it."

Taking two glasses of wine off the desk she moved towards her young lover. Corey dumped Sam on the bed before turning back towards her. She stepped up and longingly kissed him before handing him his glass. Clinking them together, she toasted.

"To us."

After making sure that their supplies were well stocked, the three guys jumped into John's truck. George had found the address easily enough and they were on there way. Each man was lost in their own thoughts, the inside of the truck a deathly quiet.

John was still riddled with guilt, his prayers to Mary still coming forth, all be it now inside his head. He prayed to God also. Although never a church going man, his time spent with the Pastor over the years had rubbed off and John from time to time had found himself talking to the higher being.

Usually he prayed for a successful hunt, that everyone would make it out safe. Today he found himself requesting the same thing but this time the odds were higher. His children were involved.

George was also still guilt riddled. His talk with John had helped but George still could not accept that this had not all come about because of his mistake. In all his years of police work he had never felt as strongly for a victim as he had for Sam Winchester. He too was praying. Praying that they would find the boys quickly, that they would find them alive.

Caleb wasn't feeling any guilt. Caleb was thinking of ways to hurt the people that had done this. John's kids were like younger brothers to him. He'd been sixteen when John had first brought them to Pastor Jim's, where he had been staying with his dad, the night of the fire. Caleb had felt nothing but love for the boys from the moment a tearful Dean had crawled into his lap and promptly fallen asleep, from the moment a baby Sam had smiled and revealed those dimples.

From then on if the boys hurt Caleb hurt. To see Sam the way he was last time had almost hurt Caleb as much as it did John. He'd wanted to exact his own form of revenge on the Burton's then but had been over ruled. This time he wasn't going to back down. This time they would do it his way.

George and Caleb jumped out of their reveries as John spoke.

"We're nearly there. You know what you have to do."

Both men nodded their agreement; they'd gone over the plan the first few kilometers into their journey. It was pretty straight forward. George was to get the boys out. Caleb and John would take care of Lesley and whoever else happened to be there.

The truck turned the final corner and the warehouse loomed before them in the distance. John pulled over to the side and turned of the engine. The three men left the truck and stealthily, using the shadows as cover, made their way towards the building.

Caleb made light work of the locks and alarms, a momentary rush of panic washing over the men; this was going too easy something was wrong. Creeping as quietly as possible they started checking the rooms on the bottom floor. Finding them all to be empty they moved towards the stairs leading to the second floor, hugging the walls of the empty warehouse trying to avoid detection.

Climbing the stairs they exited onto a walkway, five office doors leading off it. Checking the first they found it empty. They checked the second, also empty. They entered the third and three simultaneous sighs of relief came from them. Dean was there.

John rushed to his eldest son's side. Gently tapping his face, he was dismayed to receive no response. Caleb noticed the blood first. Nudging John he pointed it out. John's stomach dropped. Quickly he checked his son's pulse, it was there if a little slow. He felt along Dean's body looking for the cause of the blood, there was just too much to have come from a simple eye wound.

As his fingers touched Dean's side he felt the movement of bone there. Dean murmured and tried to move away but didn't wake at the administrations. Turning to George, John quickly spoke.

"Get him out of here. Be careful he's got some broken ribs, probably some damage to his lung."

George nodded, and then proceeded to carefully lift Dean. As he was leaving Caleb turned back to John.

"John, Sam's not here."

John nodded. "I know, we need to check the other rooms."

Both men made their way back onto the walkway and onto room four. They opened the door. It was empty. Moving on they stood out side room five. John quietly opened the door. Both men's hearts sinking at the sight that befell them.

A boy they presumed to be Corey Matthews was lying dead in front of a desk. A mixture of blood and vomit surrounding him.

Behind him was a bed.

A bed that was empty.

Sam wasn't here.

And neither was Lesley.

**A.N. . . . . . Dum Dum Dummmmmm. Well was it worth the wait? I hope so. As always thanks for taking time to read. I'll catch you soon, Peanut x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous beings. Mentions of Sam's rape and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Soon my pretties, soon! They will be mine.**

**A.N. . . . . Hey, am I good to you all or what? Two chapters in two days, hope you enjoy, Peanut x**

John was furious. How could this be happening? Why had he been given such a sense of joy and relief at finding Dean, for it to be then ripped away at finding Sammy missing again? Where the hell was his youngest son? How the hell was he going to tell Dean?

His fury heightened at the thought of his little boy alone with that bitch. His fists began to clench and unclench. His muscles tightened. His eyes glowered and his lips pursed. He roared out.

"NO O O O O O O O O."

He strode into the room. Picking up Corey by his shirt front he proceeded to pound his fist into the boys face.

He didn't care that the boy was dead.

He didn't care that he was getting covered in the boy's blood and vomit.

He only cared that his son was gone.

All John's rational thoughts were being blinded by his rage. He knew that hitting the boy wouldn't bring Sam back, but John was pissed and he really, really needed to let loose. As his hand came back for another blow, Caleb caught it. John turned vicious eyes the younger hunter's way.

"Let go!"

"No!"

"Let me go Caleb or I swear. . . . "

"You swear what John? You'll pound me one? Is this really helping? Are you miraculously getting answers to Sam's whereabouts?"

John's shoulders slumped as the tension left his body at Caleb's words. No, this wasn't helping. No, this wouldn't help them find the whereabouts of Sam. Tears filmed his eyes and he angrily swiped at them. Dropping the dead boy back down, he stood up. His legs wobbly he made his way over to the bed. Sitting down without realizing, he bolted suddenly back up when he remembered the video. Crashing to the floor, the tears flowed in earnest and John once again allowed him self to do something he rarely allowed him self to do. He broke down.

Caleb, the minute they had pulled up outside, had switched off all the nice parts of his mind. Sentimentality had flown out of the window. In its place his head was now set on cold bloodied, dangerous hunter mode. His thoughts were now clinical and precise. If it didn't help them get Sam back, then it didn't bare wasting time over. It was with that in mind that he had stopped John. His actions weren't helping so why do them?

He watched now as his good friend sobbed in the corner of the room. They really didn't have time to waste crying either, that was something that they could all do when Sam was safe and sound, but Caleb knew that John needed to release his emotions. He needed to be calm and if that was his way of getting there so be it.

Leaving John to his sorrows for the time being, Caleb began to search through the desk. Pulling out drawers he rooted for anything that would help. Anything of interest he found he pocketed, they really needed to get out of there soon. Caleb trusted his instincts and they were telling him that things had gone too smoothly, that they needed to leave now!

Getting up from behind the desk he started to make his way over to where John was still sitting. Looking down at the dead boy as he passed, Caleb felt a momentary pang of sorrow. Not that the boy was dead, hell no he deserved that and had gotten off easy as far as he was concerned. No sorrow that he hadn't been the one to do it.

He was just about to move on when he spotted something clasped in the boy's hand. With a bit of difficultly he managed to unfurl the fingers and release the item. It was a crumpled piece of paper, words scrawled on it. Smoothing the note out he quickly it.

_I'm sorry, she fooled me. Killerney Point._

"John, move! We have to go, now! I think I might know where Sam is. I think the boy told us. Move!"

"What? How?"

"I think they guy knew he was dying, he tried to repent. He must have heard the bitch talking or something. He tried to write it down before he died. C'mon move!"

Both men left the office and made their way out of the warehouse, Caleb talking on his cell to Pastor Jim all the way. Arriving back at his truck, John was eager to check on his eldest son. Opening the back door he looked in.

"Hey dad." Dean's gasped out, his voice weak and whispered. One eye swollen shut, the other struggling to remain focused on one spot.

"He woke up as I was trying to get him in the truck. He looks to have a bad concussion and I think you're right about the lung damage. He really needs a hospital John." George rushed out.

"I know. Keep an eye on him if he falls asleep wake him every ten minutes. I think we passed a hospital on the way. It's about an hour away; I'll try and get there faster." John answered, before adding to Dean. "Hey son, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna get you some help, alright? You just try to relax and hang on in there."

Dean just nodded in response. His whole body seemed to hurt and his head was exploding. Something kept tickling the back of his mind, something important that he needed to ask. But for the life of him he couldn't think what it was. He was just too damn tired. Relaxing back into George he allowed himself to succumb to the darkness.

George had done as John had asked, every ten minutes he'd woken Dean up and asked him his name and what the date was. To which Dean had tried every time to roll his eyes in answer. John had been true to his word also and they were pulling into the hospital grounds less than forty minutes later.

Caleb was out of the door and flying into the hospital barking orders and demanding attention, before John had even pulled to a screeching stop. Within seconds a doctor, nurse, orderlies and a gurney were crashing through the E.R doors towards them. George and John carefully lifted Dean out of the truck before stepping aside to allow the staff to do their work.

The unfamiliar hands roaming his body had Dean startling awake once more, his mind now remembering the question he so desperately needed the answer to.

"Dad?" He whispered.

When he received no answer he tried again a bit more strongly.

"Dad?"

John heard this time and was by his son's side in an instant, picking up Dean's hand he asked.

"Hey son, you okay?"

"Dad?" Dean gasped out again. "Where's Sam? Is Sam okay?"

John's heart dropped to his stomach. He'd been trying to avoid this question, knowing that Dean would not be happy with the answer.

"Dad?" Dean tried again. "Where's Sam?"

John just looked at his son. No words were able to force their way out of his throat. Looking at his dad's face Dean knew something was wrong. He began to struggle on the gurney. Tears already leaking from his eyes, he began to shout.

"SAMMY! SAMMY!"

"Son calm down. You really need to calm down." John was at his wits end. What was he suppose to say?

It was Caleb that eventually calmed the distraught, struggling teen. Grasping Dean's shoulders he forced the injured man back down before looking him straight in the eye.

"Sam wasn't at the warehouse Dean. He was gone and so was Lesley."

As Dean's crying intensified and he started to look away, Caleb leaned in and just loud enough for only Dean to hear he whispered.

"You need to get treated; Sam's going to need his big brother, Dean. I promise you that by the time you wake up Sam will be safe. I promise you. Look at me Dean."

Dean looked at Caleb and saw the intensity there in the older mans eyes. Caleb leaned back in.

"Sammy's coming back home, I promise. Now we can get him back to you safe, but only you can heal him. Dean, he needs you! So you calm down and let these people treat you."

John watched as Dean visibly relaxed under Caleb's guidance and he sent a silent thanks to the other hunter. As the orderlies started to wheel Dean away, John heard his name called again.

"Dad?" At seeing his fathers face Dean continued. "Dad, please find Sam. Please bring him back."

Kissing his son's damaged face and stroking his hair John replied. "Count on it. I'll bring him home."

As the hospital doors closed behind Dean, John turned to the others.

"I'll get him checked in. Once Jim gets here we move. While I'm filling out the forms, Caleb go over everything you found at the warehouse: George check all your information, see if there's any reference to Killerney Point. This ends today!"

Shaggy brown hair very nearly obscured a pair of dull brown eyes that were staring listlessly into space. More bruises now covered the young boy's hips and legs. Bites visible around his neck. All tears had long since been expelled and he now just lay bound, compliant and submissive, on his side, on the mattress, on the floor of yet another room. Captive and alone once again.

**A.N. . . . . . Hey, it's actually not that short really is it? Thanks for taking time out to read, Peanut x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Will be mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . Still Kripkie's, but that DVD is getting closer. **

**A.N. . . . . . Don't you just love overtime? You should do it means I get to write and you get to enjoy! Now this is a short chapter, sorry. That being said happy reading, Peanut x**

The weary looking man drew stares from the other occupants of the small but crowded waiting room. After finishing all of the relevant paperwork John had retreated here while waiting for news of his eldest son.

Although his gut was telling him to go, to leave, to find Sam, he knew that he couldn't do that. No, until he knew that Dean was going to be okay, until Pastor Jim had arrived, John knew he had to stay.

So he sat and he waited and he worried.

Where was Sam?

Was he okay?

Would they get to him in time?

What about Dean?

He hadn't looked good, would he be okay?

These thoughts and more were threatening to overwhelm John again. So he sat wringing his hands. His feet tapping out a continuous beat on the floor.

He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, hoping that it would be Dean's doctor. Only slight disappointment registered when he realized that it wasn't. It was Caleb and George. John hoped that they had some news. God knows he could do with the distraction.

"John." Caleb greeted. "Any news on Dean yet?"

John just shook his head.

Caleb signaled with his eyes for John to follow him and George out into the hall. George waited until a doctor had passed them by and the hall was clear before he informed John of what he'd found so far.

"She doesn't own any property in Killerney Point, John!"

"What! Fuck! So we're screwed again? Back to square one?"

"Hey before you kill the messenger, would you allow him to finish." George waited for John's nod before he continued. "She doesn't, but she knows somebody who does. A one Stuart Moremon. We have an address; we're ready to go as soon as you are."

"Have you heard from Jim?"

Caleb spoke this time. "Yeah. He just left the airport. Should be here within the hour. I also called Josh and asked him to go to your place and pick up the package from the boy's closet. Told him we'd tell him where to deliver it."

"Good, good. As soon as we've had news on Dean and Jim's here, we'll set off."

As luck would have it word on Dean coincided with the pastor's arrival. Both the doctor and the pastor calling John's name at the same time.

"John!"

"Mr. Winchester?"

Nodding to Jim, John asked the doctor to proceed.

"As you know there was significant damage to Dean's side. X-rays confirm that there are four breakages to his left ribs. X-rays also confirmed what we originally thought, that there was internal bleeding in the form of a tear to his lung. Unfortunately as Dean was being prepped ready for surgery to repair the tear to the lung, it got worse and the lung collapsed."

"We were successful in re-inflating the lung and the repairs went well. He's out of surgery now and in recovery. We will be keeping an eye on his progress for the next twenty four hours as a precautionary measure. He will be very sore for quite a while and will have to work at building the muscle strength back up."

"Dean's also showing signs of a concussion, which we will be keeping an eye on also. He'll be pretty much out of it for the next day or so, what with the concussion and the painkillers. Within the next few days though he should start showing some improvements and if there's no further complications, he should have a full recovery."

John released the breath he had been holding, before pumping the doctor's hand.

"So he'll be okay?" At getting a nod for an answer, he carried on. "Thank you, thank you."

The four men watched as the doctor left. Turning back to each other Jim spoke cutting off John.

"You don't have to explain. Dean will be fine and safe with me. Go and find Samuel."

Within minutes John's truck was tearing out of the parking lot. The three men inside all thinking the same thought.

"Hang on Sammy! We're coming."

Stuart was angry, scratch that Stuart was enraged.

"What the hell Lesley? I said I'd help you, I didn't say come here. Why the hell do you still have the boy? You said you just wanted information! Fuck!"

"You knew that I was gonna take the boy, you helped find him. You knew I wanted answers. You said you'd help me again. Remember this Stuart; you were in on this from the start. Don't mess with me now."

Stuart knew he was stuck. He had been in on the plan to kidnap Sam Winchester, but he had baulked after the first day at Lesley's mistreatment and molestations of the child and now he was totally regretting his involvement at all.

"Where's Corey? Why isn't he helping you?"

Lesley just shrugged. "He's kind of indisposed at the moment." Walking up to Stuart she stroked his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would turn out like this. I just can't stop thinking about Sam."

"You're sick Lesley. You always told me that the Winchester's lied about Sherry and I, like a fool believed you. Now though I think they told the truth and the worst of it is, you're turning out just like her."

Lesley's features darkened and words shot from her mouth like venom.

"I wasn't wrong. Sherry was innocent. It was all Sam. It was all his fault. He made her do those things and now he's making me do them."

Grasping Lesley's shoulders Stuart tried to get through to her.

"Lesley you're ill. Let me help you. Let the boy go and we'll leave and get you the help you need."

"No! I can't. I need him. He needs me."

"Lesley please, let me help you."

As Lesley turned back towards him Stuart realized the pointlessness of his pleas. Lesley would not budge on this. All he could do now was get her out of his house. Placating his tone he spoke.

"Okay, I'll help, but you can't stay here. You have to leave."

"We will I promise but Sam's asleep. Can we just stay the night?"

Even though he knew that the boy would not be sleeping, he relented and nodded his agreement.

"Sure, but first thing in the morning you need to leave."

Lesley left to go to bed soon after, leaving Stuart downstairs. He was already regretting backing down again. Hell he was regretting ever meeting the woman. How he could ever have thought he could love that woman he didn't know. Drowning his sorrows in whiskey, he wondered again if he'd made a mistake letting them stay.

He should have told her to leave.

He should have just grabbed the boy and gotten out of there.

He should have just called the police when Lesley first rang.

He should have just been a man.

He chucked the half full glass into the fire. Relishing the sudden uprising of flames as the alcohol ignited. Getting up he decided to retire also. Come the morning they would be gone and his life could return back to normal. He could relax again.

The click of the lock unlatching on the kitchen door was barely audible. The soft scrape of the door opening almost undetectable. Three bodies entered the room without so much of a creak. Three sets of eyes watched as a figure turned off lights and slowly climbed the stairs.

Stuart slowly climbed the stairs, he felt as though he had aged years in the few hours that Lesley had been there. As he passed the door that Lesley had put the boy in he stopped. Bile rose in his throat, tears stung his eyes and he dropped to his knees.

Competing sounds emanated from within the room. Lesley's loud moans of pleasure almost drowning out the boy's soft fear filled cries.

**A.N. . . . . . . . So another chapter finished, hope you enjoyed it. Not sure about this one myself, at some stage I could possibly go back and tweek it a little bit. Thanks for reading and reviewing, Peanut x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rape and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . Yada, yada, yada, yes that means they're not mine.**

**A.N. . . . . Shortish chapter again I'm sorry, but the next chapter is written and is longer, yippee! Would like to say a special thanks to sammygirl1963 for her great words of encouragement and also to RWBB, stop reading and get that bloody schoolwork done so you can post soon!**

John, Caleb and George watched as the man went up the stairs. Once he was out of sight, John whispered.

"Caleb, you're with me. George, check downstairs."

George turned and started his search as Caleb and John slowly and stealthily followed the man, treading almost daintily up the stairs. As they almost reached the top both hunters stopped. The guy was on bended knee outside one of the rooms and seemed almost to be praying.

Using hand signals John told Caleb to stay, that he would approach the guy alone. John took the final two steps in one go and proceeded to cautiously creep along the hall towards the guy. He was two steps away when he trod on the loose floorboard.

The resulting creak was like a crack of thunder in the quiet of the night.

Stuart turned at the noise behind him, his eyes bulging as he recognized the man that was standing there. His mouth gaped open and he started to try to speak. John's arm lashed out quickly, his hand covering the guy's mouth. His other arm brought his gun up into the man's line of sight. If at all possible Stuart's eyes widened even further.

Leaning in closer John hissed into the guy's ear.

"Don't even think about trying to warn her!"

Using his gun he beckoned the man to stand and he started to push him back towards where Caleb still waited.

That was until he heard the sound.

Caleb had watched John get closer to the guy they thought was Stuart. He'd heard the creak of the floorboard. He saw Stuart turn and the fear in his eyes. He'd watched as John had moved back towards him, his gun pointed at Stuart's neck. He'd wondered as John stopped.

What was wrong?

What was happening?

"John! Move!" He whispered.

But John had turned back towards the room Stuart had been kneeling outside off.

As Stuart's mouth started again to open, Caleb moved. Within seconds he was by Stuart's side. One quick blow and Stuart was out for the count. Lowering him quietly to the floor, Caleb went after John. He found him standing in the doorway, his face a mixture of anguish, grief, sorrow, regret, guilt and something else.

Hate, pure and deadly hate.

John had heard something. He stopped to better listen and heard it again. Moans of pleasure and was that. . . . . . . no, please no, it couldn't be! But he knew deep down that it was.

Sam's pitiful cries.

He turned to the room it was coming from. Stuart forgotten as his mind kept replaying those cries. He opened the door and was greeted by a sight that would be forever burned in his memories.

Sam lay naked on a bed before him and that bitch was straddled across him. John's heart seemed to shatter. His sweet and innocent little boy was being defiled by that. . . . that. . . . . words to describe her failed him, there just wasn't anything in his vocabulary to do her justice.

John became vaguely aware of a presence beside him, but he still couldn't move.

His poor baby, his boy.

Caleb moved his eyes from John's face and turned his gaze into the room. There it was. The reason for all those emotions on his friends face. They had all hoped, they had all prayed that this wouldn't be happening. Those hopes and prayers had not been enough.

Caleb's eyes blackened, his features darkened and he launched himself into the room.

The bitch had obviously been too engrossed in what she was doing to have heard the door opening, but she heard Caleb's roar of pure hate and she definitely felt his hatred as he grabbed a fist full of her hair and maliciously pulled her off Sam.

His fury was such that he forgot all about his wish to prolong the torture on Sam and Dean's kidnappers and thought of killing her right there. A shuffle on the bed stopped him. His features softened and his eyes returned to their natural chocolate brown as he watched Sam.

Sam at the removal of the weight across his body, curled back up into the smallest ball possible. Although the tears were once again falling from his eyes that was the only sign of emotion on his otherwise blank expressionless face. His once soulful and sparkling eyes now showed nothing. Soulless, dull and empty they now focused on no-one.

Caleb couldn't bear to watch anymore. Turning back to Lesley he savagely thrust her head into the wall. Satisfaction briefly flickered across his face as she fell limp in his arms. His resolve was back. Sam's blank eyes had renewed his vigor and he was almost quivering in anticipation and delight at the damage he was going to inflict on Sam's tormentor.

He looked around to see John still stood in the doorway. Walking up he shook the older hunter. He was dismayed when all he got in response was John's haunted stare turning his way. There was no other choice; he knew what he had to do. Steeling himself for the backlash, he struck John across the face. Relief washed over Caleb as shock and fury replaced the haunted look in John's eyes.

"What the. . . . What the fuck was that for?"

"You were standing there like a lemon. I had to do something." Caleb watched as John's eyes turned back towards Sam. "Oh, no you don't, John. Don't you dare return to that self pity party, or so help me God; I'll beat the living shit out of you. Sam needs his dad, but unfortunately Dean's unavailable at the minute. So you'll have to do for now."

"Not funny, Caleb."

"Hey, I thought so." Caleb sighed. "Seriously John, you can't do this now. Sam needs you."

George had arrived by this time; he'd stood quietly listening to the banter between the two hunters. He'd seen both Stuart and Lesley down and he'd seen a naked Sam in the room. Visions of all those months ago flooded over him and the guilt had risen again, but he knew Caleb was right. Their feelings could wait. Sam was the only one that mattered at this moment.

"John." George finally spoke. "Go and get Sam. We'll take care of these two. There's nobody else here."

Both Caleb and George watched as John tentatively walked towards his youngest son. Looking at George's face, Caleb saw the one question lying there that was echoing in his own mind.

How were they going to get Sam through this again?

John's legs gave way as he finally reached the bed. One hand reached to stroke Sam's hair, as the other tried to wipe away the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. He began to assess his son for injuries, noting that apart from some bruises that stood out prominently against Sam's all too pale face, bruises to his body and the cut to his head there seemed to be nothing seriously wrong.

A small smile touched john's face as he sent a small thanks to God that Sam wasn't as badly hurt as last time. It was quickly gone though as he thought about Sam's real pain. Remembering Sam's nakedness John turned to where Caleb was tying up Lesley.

"Caleb, there's a blanket in the truck, will you go get it for me?"

Caleb gave a questioning look John's way that made the older hunter add.

"It was Sam's when he was a baby. Mary bought it for him. There's some sweats there also and bring Dean's jacket. I want things around him that will be of comfort to him."

Caleb finally understanding rushed off to get the items leaving John to try and break through to his son.

"Hey Sammy. Hey son." He managed to get out but then couldn't continue. He couldn't think of a single thing to say as his mind replayed the image of his son being raped. In the end he just sat there and continued to offer comfort without words.

Caleb returned with Sam's clothes, Dean's jacket and the blanket, a worried expression on his face. John immediately sensed it and questioned.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

Caleb rubbed a hand across his face. How could he tell John this now? Didn't he have enough to worry about? But John was persistent.

"Caleb tell me, what's wrong."

Caleb paused before answering.

"It's Dean! There have been some complications!"

**A.N . . . . . . Sorry, I know I'm evil leaving you with a cliffie but I couldn't help it. Well I hope you all enjoyed. Thank you as always for reading and reviewing, Peanut x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . Still not mine, but I'm borrowing them for a while.**

**A.N. . . . . Longer chapter this time, oh and my one fingered typing went quicker than I thought so it's early, hope you enjoy it, Peanut x**

**A.N. . . . . Think I might have missed your b'day, Red. So this is for you.**

"It's Dean! There's been some complications.'

Caleb wished that the ground would just open up and take him away after he spoke those words. The look of pure anguish on John's face was heartbreaking.

John just couldn't believe it. Why was this happening? Yet again he'd gotten some good news, only to be immediately hit with another round of bad.

"What do you mean complications?"

"I don't know John. Jim just left a message saying to ring him, that Dean had some complications."

"Have you rang him?"

"No, I figured you would want to." John nodded. "Can you dress Sam, why I call?"

"Sure."

Giving Sam's hair one last stroke John walked away to make the call.

After getting through to Dean's room, he waited for Pastor Jim to pick up. He didn't have to wait too long.

"John, is that you? Did you find Sam? How is he?"

"Yeah, Jim we did. He's not doing too good to be honest with you." John paused as his voice broke thinking about what he'd seen. "How's Dean? Caleb mentioned complications, what's wrong?"

"John, I didn't want to worry you but Dean's developed an infection and it's apparently quite bad. He has a fever that continues to climb and the doctors are getting worried. They asked me to call you but I couldn't take the risk of making a noise. I took a chance that Caleb would leave his cell phone in the truck, you know what he's like with it."

A quiet fell for a few seconds before Jim spoke again.

"John, if Sam's okay to travel, I would suggest that you get here and the sooner the better. I hate to do this to you, but Dean needs you here."

"Okay. We'll tie up a few things here before setting off to you. We'll be there as soon as possible, look after Dean for me." John thought for a second before adding. "Jim, Sam had a doctor last time that he grew to be okay with. See if you can get hold of him and see if he wouldn't mind coming to Dean's hospital."

Hanging up John turned back around to Caleb so as to tell him of the plans. The words caught in his mouth and his eyes watered over at the sight that befell him.

Caleb the no nonsense, tough talking, hard as nails hunter was tenderly and with extreme care, slowly dressing Sam. All the while he was doing this task he was keeping up a steady stream of gibberish conversation, all be it one sided.

John could only sit and stare. He was fortunate, he realized, to have such good friends. They would all come in handy over the next few months. John startled out of his thoughts as Caleb spoke.

"Hey John, you okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" Wiping his hand over his growing stubble, he coughed to clear his throat. "Dean's got an infection; Jim thinks I should be there. Is Sam ready to travel?"

"He's still non responsive and wont look at you, but he's' dressed, so yes he's ready to go. What about the bitch and the guy?"

George had removed Lesley from the room and now waited with the two captives downstairs.

"Stick them in the bed of the truck. They come with us. Get Josh to bring the kid to Jim's cabin, we'll use that again. After you've dropped me and Sam at the hospital you and George meet him there. When Dean's well I'll call. Send George back with the truck then, I still don't think he's ready to deal with what we will be doing."

John thought for a minute before adding.

"Hurt them! Hurt them bad! But don't kill them. Keep them alive till I can get to you."

Caleb nodded. "Do you want me to drive or get Sam?"

"Drive! I'll bring Sam down once you have taken those two out."

It was twenty minutes later when Caleb shouted up the stairs that they were ready to leave. John had sat cradling Sam the whole time. Gathering his listless son in his arms he picked him up effortlessly, noting for the first time just how much Sam's weight had plummeted again. Vowing once again to bring his son back for this he made the journey out of the house.

By the time that they arrived at Dean's hospital, Sam's old doctor was already there waiting for them. Dr. Walsh had taken one look at Sam and whisked him away, but not before seeing the anguish in John Winchester's eyes and knowing that could only mean one thing.

As Sam was being checked over, John took the opportunity to check on Dean, knowing that Dr. Walsh could be trusted. Entering Dean's room he was overwhelmed and dismayed at the shape his eldest was in. Sweat was pouring off his face, a face that apart from two rosy hues on either cheek was otherwise pasty white. He squirmed constantly on the bed and incoherent mumbling could be heard.

Pastor Jim looked up, from trying to wipe the sweat from Dean's face with a damp cloth, as John entered. Relief was evident on his face when he saw his friend.

"John! Thank God."

"Jim, how's he doing?"

"Not good. He's resisting all the treatments. His temperature is now 103.7 and still on the rise. The doctors have started him on a stronger course, but if it continues to rise. . . . . "

Jim paused in his telling, one look at John's face told him that now was not the time to tell him what the doctors had said. That they were concerned Dean would slip into a coma.

"How's Samuel?"

"Not good. They. . . . They. . . . He was. . . . "John couldn't continue.

"It's okay. I understand."

"What am I supposed to do? I don't know who needs me most? If I go to Sam and something happens to Dean or vice versa. . . . . Jim, tell me what to do?"

"For now you need to go and make sure Sam is settled. Don't leave that poor boy alone. We'll take turns, I'll do days with Dean, nights with Sam. We'll meet at three o clock am and pm to update each other. How's that?"

John just nodded and after placing a quick kiss on his son's sweat soaked forehead made his way back down to find out about Sam.

Forty eight hours had passed since that time. John had returned to find that Sam had been placed in his own private room. Apart from the cut to Sam's forehead that had required stitches Dr. Walsh had found no serious injuries, although he did suspect a concussion. Both men knew though that that was the least of Sam's problems.

Sam had lay curled up on his side in his bed ever since. Where he steadfastly refused to let go of either Dean's jacket or the blanket. He wouldn't look at you. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink. He barely slept. He didn't care about cleanliness, even soiling himself regularly. Each time this would happen either John or Jim would gently clean him up, talking soothingly all the time.

John was on watch when Dr. Walsh came in on the third day of Sam's stay.

"Hey John, how are you and Sam today?" He asked the weary man.

"I'm good. Sam? No change."

"That's why I'm here John. I'm worried that Sam has regressed so far that if we don't intervene he could end up in a permanent vegetative state."

"What do you want to do? Try him on some different drugs?"

"I'm sorry, but I think we're past that stage. I think we need to seriously look at having Sam committed. . . . "

"No!"

"John hear me out please."

"No! I appreciate all your help but I refuse to do that to him. Sam worked his way back last time and once Dean's awake he'll work his way back again."

"John. . . . "

"No!"

"Okay. We'll see if your plan works. But Dean's showing no signs of improvement. Will you at least consider. . . . "

"NO!"

Seeing the firm set of John's jaw the doctor admitted defeat. Seeing John's gaze return to his son he knew that was his signal to leave.

As the door closed behind the doctor, John leant into Sam's bed. Once they were almost face to face and still stroking his son's hair, he stared into Sam's dull, vacant eyes and started to speak.

"Hey Sammy, I know that your in a place that you feel safe, where no one can hurt you anymore. I know that you don't want to leave. I think you could be happy there, but son we need you to come back."

"Things are not too good here, Sammy. Dean's still not doing too well. His temperature refuses to go down and I don't know how to help him, Sam. He needs you son. He needs to know that you're okay. Sammy, Dean's in trouble, please try and come back to us. He needs you, I need you. Please Sam."

He sat, still looking into Sam's empty eyes, for a few seconds longer. At getting no reaction he stood. It was three o clock time to meet Jim, at the cafeteria on Dean's floor.

He left the room without looking back.

And missed the lone tear that fell from Sam's eye.

John and Jim had sat in the hospital cafeteria for over half an hour. Neither one had any progress to report, but needed the break and some trivial conversation. After finishing their second cups of rank, cheap coffee both men had wearily stood and returned to their respective rooms.

John spoke briefly with one of Sam's nurses before turning the handle and walking into Sam's room.

Sam's bad stood empty.

John's mind immediately panicked. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening again. Storming out of the room he started to shout his son's name, his cries attracting the attention of security and Sam's nurse.

"Mr. Winchester. What's wrong?"

"Where the hell is my son? I know he has no tests today so where is he?"

The nurse was about to answer, when somebody else could be heard shouting.

"John! John!" Pastor Jim's out of breath voice shouted.

"Jim, Sam's gone! Where's Dean? Is he okay?"

"Yes, yes. Come with me, I need to show you something."

"Jim, Sam's gone, we don't have time. . . . "

"Just follow me and stop being so bloody stubborn."

John reluctantly followed the older man upstairs and to Dean's room, where upon opening the door, tears formed in his eyes and he choked back sobs.

Sam lay curled up to Dean's uninjured side, still clutching his blanket. Dean's jacket lay over them both. Dean's arm, instinctively, had somehow managed to curl around his brother's form. Both lay with peaceful looks on their faces, fast asleep.

"John, the nurse was just leaving when I came back. She wouldn't disturb them because she hadn't seen Dean so still for such a long time. She had just taken Dean's temperature. John, she can't explain it, but its dropping."

Both men looked at one another. Although they both had tears that were falling, they were also smiling for the first time since the boys had been taken.

**A.N. . . . . . I thought I would give you a cliffie free ending to the chapter, cause I'm starting to get a complex, what with you all thinking I'm evil. Hope you liked and can I just say if you have anything that you would like to have done to hurt Lesley let me know.**

**Thanks as always for reading! And special thanks to all the great reviewers, Peanut x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . I own two seasons on DVD, does that count? Didn't think so, so no they're not mine.**

**A.N. . . . . . . Shortish chapter again, sorry. But I did say that I wasn't gonna post until tomorrow, so do I get brownie points back? Hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading and reviewing, Peanut x**

**A.N.2. . . . . Thanks to all who gave suggestions for torture, you really do rival me for sadistic ness. I'm still open for suggestions though, if you have just let me know! **

Both men just stood there watching the two boy's on the bed, unable or rather unwilling to move incase either should waken.

As the afternoon wore on and Dean's temperature continued to fall, it was decided by both doctors' to move Sam and Dean into the same room.

A sedative was administrated to Sam so that he could be removed from Dean's bed and he now slept, all be it still drug induced, on his own bed; still with his blanket and Dean's jacket, facing towards his older brother. John sat, almost sentry like, between the two.

Dawn was just breaking when Dean started to rouse. It started with him just shifting on the bed, his head rolling from side to side as though dreaming. At the first sign of his distressed mumblings John was quickly by his side.

"Dean, hey son. It's okay, calm down, its okay."

"D. . . .Dad?"

"Yeah son. I'm here. Try and open your eyes, Dean. It's time to wake up."

Dean tried to do as his dad asked but they felt so damn heavy. Finally after a gigantic effort he succeeded in at least opening them halfway.

"Hey son, you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm alright, a bit hot. Thirsty."

John poured Dean a cup of water before helping him up so that he could drink it. Dean managed half of the cup before he was eased back down to the bed.

"You hurt anywhere? Do you need any pills, the doctor?"

Dean shook his head, his eyes already beginning to close as exhaustion hit him.

"'M good."

His eyes closed and he began to fall into the darkness once again.

John had just returned to his seat when Dean shot up in his bed, a grimace immediately placed on his face as the stitches in his side pulled.

"Dean what is it, what's the matter? Son?"

Dean was too busy struggling to breathe to answer, the sudden movement having taken its toll.

"Dean, Dean, shit I'm gonna call for the doctor, okay? Try and relax?"

Dean managed to grasp his dad's arm before he could push the call button. Stuttering badly he managed to finally wheeze his words out.

"D. . .Dad, S. . . .Sam? Where's Sam?"

Grabbing his son's face in his hands, John relaxed slightly.

"Hey Dean, look at me! Look at me!" As Dean looked his way he continued. "He's safe Dean."

Dean's eyes where still frantically searching for a sign of his brother, so John moved to the side and guided his son's eyes to the other bed in the room.

"He's safe Dean and he's here."

Tears clouded Dean's eyes as he finally caught sight of Sam asleep on the other bed and he physically relaxed in his dad's arms. Allowing himself to be placed back down, he spoke up.

"Is he okay? Did she. . . . Did she manage to. . . . . Was he. . . .?" The word just wouldn't come.

John's felt the tears' threatening to fall once more as he looked into Dean's pleading eyes. He so wanted to keep it from Dean, but knew he couldn't. If they wanted to help Sam, Dean had to know.

As John nodded,

Dean crumpled.

"Son I'm sorry, we didn't get there in time to stop it. But Sam's alive Dean and he needs you." At getting no response from Dean, John tried a different approach. "Dean, Sam's regressed so far into his mind that he refuses to do anything. But do you know when he knew you were ill he snuck out of his bed and found your room, just to be there for you."

Dean looked incredulously at his dad.

"Yeah that's right. He wont eat, sleep, drink, anything. But he knew you needed him so he found you. Now Sam needs you Dean, are you just gonna let him down? Feel sorry for yourself?"

"No." Dean whispered.

"Good. Now try and get some rest. Sam's sedated for now and you need to build your strength up."

Dean was ready to acquiesce but had one more question he needed to know the answer to.

"Did you get her?"

His eyes almost closed once again, his body no longer able to resist the exhaustion, but he still heard his dad's reply.

"Yes!"

John waited for Dean's breath to even out before walking into the small bathroom and pulling out his phone. Dialing a number it was picked up after the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Caleb, it's me. Is everything okay your end?"

"Just peachy! Josh got here before we arrived and since then the two guys' haven't stopped wailing."

"What about her?"

"She's as hard faced as her sister was, but we'll knock that smile off her face soon enough. How's things your end?"

"Dean's temperature dropped and he's out of danger now. He still tires easy, but he knows what happened and you know Dean, that'll drive him to recover quicker."

Caleb could feel that John was stalling and pressed further.

"And Sammy?"

John let out a huge sigh before answering.

"Not good. He's not changed. Apart from coming to Dean's room, he's still unresponsive. He still just lies there, staring. They have to sedate him just so he'll sleep. They're mentioning institutions again Caleb, but I'm sorry I just can't allow that, you know? I'm praying that once Dean's up and about, he'll be able to get through. We're just playing the waiting game."

Caleb felt for his friend. He really wished that he was able to split himself in two, so that he could be in both places, but that wasn't gonna happen and he knew that John needed him here.

"When do you think you'll be here to finish this?"

"Give me a few days. Dean should be stronger by then. He and Jim will be okay with Sam and George will be here too."

"Okay, when you're ready I'll send George back with the truck. Take care of the boys, John."

"I will! See you in a few days. Make sure you leave me something to work on."

Caleb chuckled softly.

"I promise they'll still have some flesh left to work on. I'm not greedy. I can share."

After a quick goodbye, John turned off the light and made his way back out. He returned to Sam's moans and cries of terror, his wild thrashing on the bed. His nightmares returning.

Rushing to his son's side he tried to calm him. Sitting on the side of the bed he pulled Sam into his arms and gently rocked him. Although Sam stopped the thrashing his cries would not abate. Nothing John did seemed to reach Sam, locked away in his mind.

"Dad." Dean whispered his voice still not very strong.

"Dad." He tried again, relieved when his dad heard him this time. "Bring him over here."

John carefully picked up Sam and mindful of Dean's ribs and I.V gently placed him on Dean's bed. Turning himself, with effort, so that he was facing more towards his brother, Dean hugged an arm around Sam and started to rub his back.

"Hey Sam, it's alright. Your safe back with me and dad now. You can stop being frightened. You can calm down now."

Sam quieted a little more but was still locked in his nightmare. Dean decided to try an alternative approach.

"Hey Sam, do you remember that summer dad took us to the beach. . . . ."

John sat on Sam's bed listening to and watching Dean calm down his younger brother. It had always amazed him, and at times made him jealous, the tightness of the bond between them.

Today though he was glad for it. Maybe, just maybe, that tightness would be the thing that brought Sam back.

In a clearing, in the middle of a dense woods stood a simple log cabin. On a normal day it stood quietly.

Today was not normal.

Today it was echoing to the sound of screaming.

**A.N. . . . . . . Hey, no cliffie again! How very un-evil of me! Well we can't be having that now can we? So just to remedy that, the next chapter I think is awesome! The torture begins! Hee Hee Hee Hee! Catch you soon, thanks for reading, Peanut x**


	13. Chapter 13

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mention of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Still waiting for my wish to come true, until then I owe nothing.**

**A.N. . . . Thought I would be nice for a change and because I had nothing else to do this morning and because I got it typed up quickly I thought I would post earlier than I told you all. Oh and because I just love this bloody chapter so much. **

**And so it begins! The start of the pain! Get your cuppa and a biccie (sorry cookie) sit back and enjoy chapter 13(ooh ominous that it had to be that number!) Peanut x**

**A.N.2. . . . Cavetrollgrl, where's my pound of nutty choccie? Cause here's what you wanted!**

Caleb put the phone back into his pocket after speaking with John. The older hunter's words about Sam had cut through his heart like a knife and his anger was building up again. His mind kept showing him over and over again Sam's haunted, hollow eyes, his curled up naked body, his body being used by that bitch.

His muscles tensed and he unknowingly clenched his fists so hard the knuckles shone bright white. Picking up one of the duffels they had packed with weapons he strode out of the room.

George and Josh had both looked up as Caleb had stormed from the room and into the hall leading to the two bedrooms. They jumped up and followed, watching as he entered the room holding Lesley. George reached for the door as Caleb slammed it shut, but he was too late. He heard as the lock clicked into place.

"Caleb!" George shouted, as he banged the hell out of the door.

"Caleb! Open the god damn fucking door!" Still getting no response he kicked at the door one last time before turning, catching Josh as he started to walk away.

"Josh? Where are you going? Shouldn't we try to get in? What if he kills her?" George asked, rushing the questions out, troubled by Caleb's actions.

"You try if you want. I've seen the stubborn bastard like this before. Believe you me you won't get him to open that door until he's ready to. When he gets like this he's one scary dude, there's no way I'm gonna stand in his way. He won't kill her; don't worry about that, just maim."

After finishing Josh walked back into the kitchen, leaving a stunned George standing in the hallway.

In the room Lesley had turned scornful eyes Caleb's way when he'd entered. Her whole body, even though tied to a chair, was screaming defiance. Almost as if challenging Caleb.

Her clothes, like Sherry's had been removed the minute they had arrived. Sam had not been allowed that dignity, so it only seemed fair to return the favor. Apart from a couple of slaps and the original head wound Caleb had given her, she and the guys had been pretty much left alone.

That was all about to change though.

"You know." Caleb started. "Sherry was defiant at the beginning too, at the end though she was begging for her life."

"She always was the weaker twin. Just look at the pathetic loser she married. You won't get that satisfaction from me. I'll be out of here soon and. . . . . ."

"You know she said the same thing too! Maybe you will get out of here, but I really think not."

"You're just like all other men. Pathetic, little, sniveling losers. You don't scare me."

Caleb's eyes changed once more, his pupils dilating so much you could hardly see the brown. He turned those black eyes on Lesley.

"And that will be your downfall. Cause you should be, you really should be!"

The smile faltered somewhat on Lesley's face, but was quickly recovered.

"Let me go and I'll make you a very rich man."

"Money isn't everything."

The smirk returned as she scoffed at Caleb's answer. Still refusing to believe the trouble she was in. Unfortunately her next words sealed her fate and she was about to find out.

"Let me leave and we'll forget all of this. Just let me have the boy."

Caleb was dumb struck, unable to move. She hadn't just said that, surely she was stupid enough to have said that. Slowly but surely his fury rose.

Striking out his fist with such power he struck Lesley across the face. The chair crumpled under the strain and both fell to the floor.

Walking over to the duffle he routed inside until he found the item he wanted. Striding back to Lesley, he untied her arms. Tying the left one quickly back up, he stretched the right one out forcing the hand to also spread.

The hammer head glistened sinisterly in the artificial light as Caleb lifted it above his head. Looking down on the bitch his anger threatened to boil over at the smugness that covered her face.

"Just tell me why? Why Sam? After everything your sister did, why him?"

"My sister did nothing that he didn't want to do. He seduced her. He wanted her."

"You're as deluded as she was if you believe that. Your sister and her husband raped Sam over and over. Just like you did."

"It was his fault. It was all his fault. He wanted it. He begged for it."

"You're sick! You don't deserve to live."

"Then kill me! Do it. Be a man and kill me."

"That's coming, believe you me, you will eventually die."

"You're all talk. All of you. You all claim to love Sam, yet not one of you could protect him. You all let him down. . . . . . "

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Why did I hit a nerve? Hit close to home? I was the only one who loved Sam. Me! He was safe with me."

"Safe! Safe! What the. . . . . He wasn't safe with you. You took him from his family and you raped him. If that wasn't enough you had to go and show his family. You are scum."

"No, I'm the only one Sam can trust. The only one who can keep him safe, love him."

Caleb laughed.

"You don't know the meaning of the words safe and love. Sam's safe and loved around Dean, his dad and us. Not you. You've destroyed him again and nothing you can say or do will stop us from hurting you."

"After what your sister did, it took Sam months to rebuild his life to something like normal and you took just seconds to destroy it again. Start preparing to meet Sherry in hell, cause that's where you'll be soon enough."

Finally bringing the hammer down, Caleb struck it across Lesley's index finger.

Lesley used the only weapon she had her mouth. "You should try him, he was really good. He'd make you a good bitch."

Caleb raised the hammer again and brought it down on her middle finger.

Agony ripped through her and she fought to stop screaming.

The hammer came crashing down again, hitting across her ring finger.

As the pain escalated Lesley struggled to get her arm free, but Caleb's grip was too strong.

Caleb brought the hammer down again on her little finger

Lesley struggled harder. She bucked to try and remove him, but the knee in her shoulder kept her forced down.

Turning her arm slightly Caleb struck again. The pain was too much and as the claws of the hammer smashed into her exposed elbow. . . . .

Lesley finally screamed. Over and over and over again.

Getting up from the floor Caleb chucked the hammer back over to the duffle. Grabbing the back of the chair he hoisted it upright, bringing her with it. He untied her left arm and roughly pulling her damaged right one, soliciting more screams of pain, he tied them securely back to the chair.

He grabbed Lesley's face, squeezing it so tightly that his fingers broke the skin and hissed.

"That's just the beginning!"

Pushing her face away he moved to the door picking up the duffle as he went. Unlocking it he left the room brushing past George as he rushed to the bathroom. He felt unclean, the bitch's blood was all over his hands and every time he caught a glimpse of it he felt sick.

He didn't regret what he'd done, hell he was looking forward to round two. He just hated the fact that he had to touch the bitch.

Closing the bathroom door, he turned on the tap, letting the soothing sound of the water calm his tense muscles and his nerves. He quickly got to work scrubbing his hands clean before splashing some of the water onto his face.

He looked into the mirror pleased to see that his eyes were returning to normal. He knew how they went, what they looked like when he got angry and even though he would never admit it, when they got like that, he scared even himself.

Splashing more water onto his face and through his short dark hair, he quickly toweled himself off and went to leave the room.

An angry looking George barred his way.

"I'm not sorry!"

"I didn't think that you would be."

"Then why do you look like you're pissed off? She deserves everything she's gonna get."

"I agree."

"Then what?"

"Don't keep me out of it. I may not have known the Winchester's as long as you have, but I care for those two boy's, for John, shit even for you! I need to be apart of this, I need to make amends. I told John I was in all the way, yet I know he plans to send me back to stay with the boy's. If that's what he wants then I'll do it, but until I have to leave, don't leave me out."

"I didn't. I needed to do this on my own, you know? Next time it's all you."

"Good! Now that that's sorted, I thought you could use one of these?"

A bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses appeared from behind George's back.

"C'mon lets get josh, have a drink and then maybe I'll work over one of the guy's?"

**A.N. . . . . . Well? How was it? As I said earlier I love this chapter, it was a pleasure to write. I can't take all the credit though there are two people who I need to thank for suggestions, so here goes.**

**Perfectharmony: Thanks for the suggestion. Was the finger breaking slow enough?**

**Sammysgirl1963: Thanks for the dignity line.**

**More torture to come and thanks to all those who have suggested ways. I'm still open to offers as it's far from finished yet.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, Peanut x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rape and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . Still only in my dreams.**

**A.N. . . . . Thanks as always to all who have taken time out to look at, read or review this fic. It's very much appreciated. Peanut x**

George, Caleb and Josh had finished most of the bottle and the day had long since passed into night when George finally got his wish to make amends. Stuart was taken out of the second bedroom and placed in Lesley's room. Caleb and Josh returned to the cabin's living room, leaving George with Paul.

The quivering boy was a mess. He still bore the bruises on his body that he'd been given by Caleb's beating at John's house. Like Graham had almost a year ago, he'd also wet himself numerous since he'd first be dumped in the room. Tears still fell from his eyes, which were now red rimmed and blood shot.

George stood there just watching. Now that he was actually in the room and about to hurt someone, his heart was starting to over rule his head. Could he do this? Could he really hurt this man, boy, child? His mouth went dry and he started to sweat. Should he just go out and tell Caleb and Josh that he was sorry? That he couldn't do it.

Sam's face came into his mind. How he had looked pitiful and scared and destroyed in the Burton's house. How at Thanksgiving he had been on his way back, how he had smiled and talked and been happy. And finally to how he had looked at Stuart's house, locked back once more in his mind, scared and alone and broken.

George's mind was made up and he walked up and took out Paul's gag.

"Please let me go, please let me go, please let me go. . . . " Kept spewing from his mouth once the gag had been removed.

He was cut short from his ramblings as George's fist crashed into his face.

"Shut up and stop sniveling."

Paul attempted to but couldn't quite manage to still his trembling or fully contain his sobs.

"I think that I might be able to persuade them into letting you go, but I need to know that you won't tell anyone."

"I won't, I won't, please just let me go."

"Nah, you see though your word just isn't good enough. I'm gonna have to show them that you're sorry for your part in the kidnappings. Show them that you're remorseful, that you're regretful. You see because of your stupidity Sam's life has been ruined once again and I think that it's only fair that you pay for that."

Paul's face paled.

"Don't worry as I said you'll live, I'm just gonna make sure that you never, ever, forget?"

Paul lost control and wet once more.

"You played football didn't you? The big shot star receiver? The cheerleader favorite? The ladies man?"

George was happy to see the look of shock he received in return for his words.

"I did my homework well, didn't I? I even know about the college scholarship that is about to be offered to you. Well it was about to be offered to you, but I think they might be changing their minds. Once they see you again they won't be offering you anything."

"Wh. . .what are y. . . you going t. . . t. . . to do?" Paul stammered out.

"This!"

George had pulled out the old fashioned cut throat razor so fast, Paul didn't even see it. It was only once the blood started flowing and the pain assaulted his senses that he realized that his face had been cut.

And so had his eye.

George stepped back and admired his handy work before, unknowingly echoing Caleb earlier; he grabbed Paul's face in his hand.

"Every time that you look in the mirror you'll remember. You'll remember your dead friend, yes he's dead the bitch killed him! You'll remember her! You'll remember Dean who you beat senseless! But most of all you'll remember Sam and his life that you helped her destroy."

"You should know though that you didn't succeed. Sam's the strongest person I know and he will recover from this. Hell, he'll probably be the one that eventually gets the college scholarship. The scholarship that unlike yours he'll get to use."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm. . . . "

"Shut up! Save it, your apology means nothing, it's worthless."

George went to leave as Paul's sobbing increased, he turned back round suddenly and grabbed Paul's right wrist, speaking as he did so.

"I've changed my mind; I think you're getting off too easy!"

A shot rang out in the cabin.

Screams followed shortly after.

Paul's football career was definitely over.

His right wrist shattered beyond all repair.

From the first time that Dean had woken up two days earlier, he'd shocked his doctor with the swiftness of his improvement. His temperature had dropped back down to normal and his infection was almost gone. They'd allowed him to take short walks around the ward and had started him on physio, the result of which was he was rapidly regaining his strength back.

The doctor wished that he was the cause of such an improvement, but he knew that he couldn't take the credit for this miracle. No, that belonged to the shattered shell of a boy that shared his room. If anyone went within two feet of Sam, Dean wanted to know who they were and why they were there. He questioned and probed Sam's doctor constantly.

"What can I do to help?"

"Why is he not responding?"

"If I do this will it help?"

"What's that drug for?"

"Why are you doing that?"

"Should I do that when your not here?"

The questions went on and on. Even when the doctor thought he'd run out, he'd shock them with new ones. When he wasn't being checked over or having his own physio, he worked tirelessly with his younger brother. Refusing to give up on Sam, he spent hours moving his arms and legs to stop them seizing. He took over from his dad and Jim, who had returned home, and cleaned Sam up if he messed, talking to him constantly just to let him know he was there.

Sam had slowly responded to Dean's support and for the first time earlier he had allowed himself to be fed. A small step you would think, but for Dean it felt huge.

He had excitedly told Sam's doctor expecting the same sense of happiness from him that he had felt. All he got though was a feeling of disappointment when that reaction wasn't returned. In the end he had told Dr. Walsh to leave, fed up with the negativity that surrounded him.

John had stepped into the room as the doctor had left, one glance at Dean's face telling him that something was wrong. Immediately thinking that there was something medically wrong with Sam he asked.

"Dean, son, what's wrong? Is Sam okay?"

Dean kicked at the rolling table over Sam's bed, sending it crashing into the wall. John's fear increased.

"Dean, what is it?"

Dean looked up at his dad, his eyes wet and shining.

"Sam ate, dad."

John breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's it! But that's great, why would that piss you off?"

"It's fantastic or so I thought but Sam's doctor didn't think so. He said it didn't change anything."

"Son of a bitch!"

"I know! Dad I want to leave here. I want to take Sam back home. Please."

"Dean you're not fully fit yet . . . . "

"Dad, please. I'll rest more, do anything you tell me. I won't fight you on anything, I promise. Just please take us home."

John's voice rose slightly.

"Dean, no I think you should stay a few more days. You're still recovering. What if you have a relapse?"

"Dad I won't."

"You don't know that, Dean. I won't risk your health, son."

Dean voice rose to match his dad's.

"But you'll risk Sammy's?"

"That's not fair."

"Fair, fair. Sam eats for the first time in days and nobody seem to see that as progress, that's what's not fair. How can having negative people around him be good for his health dad?"

"Dean . . . . "

"Dad don't bother. I thought you'd be supportive of this, I guess I was wrong."

A pair of eyes had moved slightly as the voices he could hear grew louder. The angry tones were frightening to him. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, his pulse quickening. He needed them to stop, but they grew louder and angrier.

"Stop!"

The voices ignored him and continued to rise.

"Stop!" He tried again.

Dean and John might have been yelling at one another but both heard the whispered word the second time it was spoken. Spinning round, they were treated to a sight that they had been praying for.

Sam's eyes looking at them.

Dean rushed to his brother's side, quickly leaning in to stroke his head. John trailing not fair behind.

"Hey Sammy. God it good to have you back."

"Hey son, I missed you."

Sam was getting overwhelmed. This sudden closeness of people causing his breath to hitch. Both men noticed and although they stayed next to the bed they gave Sam a bit more space.

"Sam, son, do you need anything?"

Sam's eyes moved away from their faces and stared straight ahead again. Dean and John panicked. No, please, no don't let him slip back. Please. They cast each other a glance, both thinking Sam had shut off once more, when he uttered one word.

"Home."

As Sam's eyes closed in sleep, Dean prepared himself for a fight. His dad might disagree but Sam wanted to go home and if that's what Sam wanted, nobody would stand in Dean's way of giving him his wish. He turned around to face his dad ready for the argument to follow. None came, as Dean's eyes met his dad's, John nodded.

"Okay, okay, we leave here, but we go back to the house only to collect our belongings. I'll take you and Sam to Jim's and get you settled there. I think Sam would like that."

"So do I. Thanks dad." Dean returned, before adding all most as an after thought. "Where will you be staying?"

"I can't tell you that. I hope you understand and that you respect my wishes and don't ask again."

Dean nodded his agreement. He still remembered how it had turned out last time and he wouldn't put Sam through that again.

"Thanks son. Let's get you and Sam checked out of here and to Jim's. I have a hunt to finish."

Grabbing his phone he dialed Caleb and asked him to send George and the truck.

Once George had arrived and after arguing with both Sam and Dean's doctors, John had ended up signing both of his son's out against medical advice. Both boys still in their hospital gowns and Sam bundled in Dean's jacket, they prepared to leave.

George offered to help Dean, who insisted he didn't need the help, although his legs still trembled slightly. Leaving John to carry Sam, who thankfully was still fast asleep. Settling Sam so that his head rested in Dean's lap, George and John got into the front of the truck, the latter starting the engine and pulled onto the road for the hour long journey to the house.

As they arrived back home John panicked, he had forgotten about the photo's and the video.

"Dean, I need you to stay here with Sam. George will help me."

"Why?"

"Just trust me. Stay in the truck. We'll just grab a few things for now, we'll pick up the rest another day. We'll be as quick as we can, lock the doors behind us." Opening the glove box he took out a 45. "Here take this if anyone comes close use it."

Dean took the gun and after moving Sam, locked the doors after the two men.

John felt the memories flooding back as he stepped over the threshold. The quicker he got away from here the better. He sent George upstairs to gather some of his and the boy's clothes and belongings. Moving into the kitchen, his instinct to keep the boy's outside proved right.

The photos and video were still resting on the table where John had left them. He hastily picked them up, trying his hardest not to look at the pictures again. He went upstairs to give George a hand. Picking up a duffle he stuffed the video and pictures at the bottom before ramming in some of his clothes.

Within ten minutes they had packed enough to last for a while. After one more quick check to make sure they hadn't forgot anything they might need, they started loading the bags into the bed of the truck, before finally leaving the town.

**A.N. . . . . Hope this was okay for you all? Still more torture to come and of course Sam's recovery. Another chapter mid week, Peanut x**


	15. Chapter 15

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean, Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . Still do not own Sam, Dean, John, Caleb or Joshua, but George is mine!**

**A.N. . . . . . Hello it's only me! Just a quick couple of mentions, thanks to Perfectharmony, sammysgirl and Cavetrollgrl, you all know how to really cheer a girl up and that's a great gift to have. This chapter is for you, happy reading. Having trouble sleeping because of the flu so you guy's get an early post, I'm just too nice,Peanut x**

John closed the door of the truck with such force the whole thing shook. It had been a very long day and he was feeling every hour of it. Sam had woken by the time they had reached Jim's home and at first he had seemed to be fine being there.

He had allowed Dean to help him to the smaller of the two couches in Jim's living room where he had stayed bundled under the jacket and a comforter. He'd not said any more since his three words at the hospital, but he had eaten half of a sandwich that Dean had prepared, falling asleep once again after doing so.

As John was preparing to leave though Sam's mood dramatically shifted. He had gone into the living room to see Dean, arriving in the middle of one of Sam's nightmares. He'd stood back, knowing that Dean would be the one that Sam would want once he woke. He couldn't have been more wrong.

As Sam finally found his way out of his terror, his tears falling and sobs wracking his body, Dean stepped in to comfort him. Sam almost flew off the couch to get away from him. Both men looked at each other in shock and bewilderment. What was going on? The shock and bewilderment turned to surprise as Sam suddenly flung himself at his dad and refused to let go.

John just stood there, his youngest son crying and trembling in his arms, caught between a rock and a hard place. What should he do? He really needed to go and finish off with Lesley and the two guys, but he didn't want to leave Sam like this.

His face seemed to register his anguish, his indecision, his pain. Sam rarely needed or wanted John's comfort these days. He couldn't complain he had after all made it that way, forcing Dean to be Sam's almost father figure, but today Sam needed him, wanted him. But today John really needed to go.

John stole a quick glance at Dean. His eldest was bravely trying not to let it show just how much Sam's actions had hurt him, but the wetness of his eyes gave him away. He looked at his dad shocked at the amount of pure misery he saw radiating from him and quietly spoke up.

"Dad you need to go! The sooner you leave the quicker you'll be back. Sam will be okay."

Sam's crying intensified after Dean's words were spoken. His body now shaking so much, John's grip was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Dean, I don't know. Maybe I should stay a few days more make sure that you and Sammy get settled?"

"Dad, no! This needs to be over. Sam will be fine, today has probably overwhelmed him. He'll be alright in a bit. You need to go."

John realized that Dean was right; he should get this over with. Once he'd finished with Lesley they could start to rebuild once again. He tried to guide Sam back to the couch, but he dug his heels in. When he picked Sam up and started to carry him back Sam struggled, muffled words coming from him.

"Please don't leave me, please don't leave me. Dad please stay with me. Please stay."

The words cut deep; he was going to kill that bitch for reducing his son to this. In the end he had resorted to prying his son from his grasp and rushing from the room.

Sam crumbled, his cries turned to wails, his trembling to shakes.

Those sobs, the shaking body and the look of sorrow, and defeat, and need on Sam's face had kept showing in John's mind through the whole drive to the cabin. His anger intensifying as the miles and the tiredness of the past days caught up with him.

So it was that he had slammed the trucks door shut and stormed towards the cabin that held the cause of all his problems. He didn't stop for pleasantries with Caleb and Josh he just headed towards the two bedrooms.

Opening this first door he was met with his son's tormentor. Still tied up, Lesley's whole defiant demeanor dropped as she was all of a sudden face to face with a very pissed off John Winchester.

Striding over John gripped Lesley around the throat. With a strength born of anger he picked both her and the chair up. Looking straight into her eyes he spat out his words.

"I loathe you. I'm going to make you beg for your life and then I'm going to kill you. I'm going to play with you and taunt you and mess with your head so much. I'm gonna make you go insane wondering when it will finally end."

With that he threw her back down, relishing her screams as her damaged, broken limbs hit the floor. He strode from the room and headed for the other bedroom. Joined by Caleb and Joshua by this point, he spoke to them both.

"Caleb, take that piece of crap, put him in the other room. Make sure that I didn't hurt her too much, patch her up if need be. Have a bit of fun with them both if you want to. Josh you're with me."

As Caleb dragged Paul from the room, John turned to a whimpering Stuart.

"Why?"

"I don't understand."

"Why?"

"I don't know what you mean, why what?"

"Why did you help her?"

"I didn't."

The last syllable had hardly left his mouth as John's fist landed.

"Don't lie. You where there, you helped her."

"I didn't, I swear I didn't."

John landed a vicious stomach punch this time.

"Why. Did. You. Help. Her?"

"Please, I swear. I didn't help her."

John's anger had reached boiling point, taking his gun out he pointed it between Stuart's eyes. Nobody moved until Josh finally broke the deafening silence.

"John, put the gun away. You really don't want to do this."

No response.

"John, put it away. He's not worth it. John, go and help Caleb. I'll deal with him."

John finally acquiesced, looking up he nodded before he slowly made his way to the door. Joshua glanced between the two men, both of them distraught, but for very different reasons.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. . . . " Stuart pleaded.

"Don't! I don't even know why I stopped him. Sam's life is in tatters again because of you. I should have just let him pull the trigger."

"But I didn't do anything."

As Joshua's cold, hard, unfeeling gaze sent a chill down his spine Stuart knew that he had said something wrong.

"That's right!"

"What do you mean?"

Joshua gave a menacing chuckle.

"You really are as pathetic as she thinks you are, aren't you? You're a miserable specimen of a man. You're completely right you did nothing, nada, zip, zilch. You knew what she had done, what she was doing at your house and you did nothing. Why didn't you help Sam? You could have called the police, you could have taken him away from her, but no you did nothing, you cried! You should die for what you did. You're almost a bad as she is, but you're going to live."

"Oh, thank god, thank god, thank you. . . . "

"Shut the fuck up, before I change my mind."

Stuart quieted down somewhat. Relief seemed to ooze from his very being at Joshua's words. Josh sensing this spoke.

"You really think that we're going to let you go without something to remember us by?"

Stuarts face blanched.

"Not many people know this but I always wanted to be a doctor, studied for it and everything."

"What are you going to do?" Stuart sputtered out.

"You're about my age right, thirty five ish?"

At Stuart's nod, Josh continued.

"Any children?"

Stuart shook his head no.

"Good, because you really don't deserve any, so I'm going to make sure you never have any."

"Oh god, please no, no."

"He's not listening right now, sorry."

Joshua's face glinted with menace as he took the scalpel from his pocket.

"Sam was a good kid, the best. Would do anything for anyone. Wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it. Trusted everyone. You helped her to take away all those things. Everything that made Sam, Sam you helped destroy. All because of a woman! All because you thought you loved that bitch? I'm going to make sure you never, ever feel comfortable with a woman again."

Stuart was screaming even before Josh made the first cut.

In the other bedroom, John was working out his anger by slowly removing Lesley's fingernails with a pair of pliers. As Stuart's screams echoed around the house he exchanged a look with Caleb. Two down and only the bitch to go, and she was all John's.

**A.N. . . . . Hope that was okay for you? Have to do a couple of quick shout outs, firstly to 1Pagan3 for the castration and fingernail ideas, and also to JoyofReading who also suggested the fingernails, catch you soon, Peanut x**


	16. Chapter 16

**Month's to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought that they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Kripkie's not mine.**

Dean didn't know what to do. He was completely at a loss. As soon as their dad had left the day before, Sam had effectively withdrawn once more. Dean had tried everything to get Sam to talk to him, look at him, acknowledge him, but nothing had worked. Even Max the beagle hadn't worked this time.

Sam had retreated to the room they were sharing and had rarely come out since. Every time Dean went in to check on him Sam would pretend to be asleep, even though Dean could hear the gently sobs and see the slight quivers Sam couldn't quite contain.

He asked over and over again, what had he done wrong? Why was Sam shutting him out? He even pleaded with Sam, but all he got in return were requests for his Dad. It was all too much for Dean; still not fully recovered he could feel his strength being drained once more.

He had decided to sleep in the living room last night, not wanting to cause Sam any more anguish by sleeping in the same room. Sleep though had eluded him as he worried about Sam, would he be okay on his own? Was he doing anything stupid? In the end he had crept back into their room around 2am not willing to leave him on his own any longer.

Being in the same room though had not eased Dean's worries though and sleep still hadn't come. This was why he found himself in Jim's kitchen at 5am, a very strong coffee his only companion.

It was around 6 when he first heard the signs of life in the house. The gentle creaking of the old floorboards signaling the arrival of someone in the kitchen. Looking up Dean felt a momentary prang of relief that it wasn't Sam, quickly followed by guilt for feeling that way, but he just couldn't bear being pushed away again.

"Hey Dean, you're up early. Shouldn't you still be resting?" George asked.

"Couldn't sleep." Dean answered back before resuming his watch on his rapidly cooling cup of coffee.

"Wanna talk about it?" George offered. He had seen Sam's reaction the day before and he'd seen the hurt that Dean felt.

"I just don't know what to do, George. Sam was okay with me yesterday at the hospital. I just don't know what's changed between there and here. It's killing me that he won't let me in. That he won't let me help, but I really don't know what else I can do. I really don't know what's wrong."

"I don't have the answers for you, Dean, I'm sorry. You just have to keep on gently trying to get Sam to open up. I know it's been hard on you too, but Sam's been through hell again, there's gonna be days like this. You just have to be strong, be there for him, even if he continues to push you away. He'll come around eventually, when he's ready too."

"I don't know if I can do that, George. Be strong, be there. It just hurts too much. I know he wants comforting, I can feel it, but he won't let me. Why?"

"I don't know Dean. But I do know this, you can help him. I remember last time Dean, you were the only one that could help him and I believe in my heart that you will be the only one again."

Dean just sighed. Getting up he tipped the cold remnants of his coffee down the sink.

"Thanks George. I'm going to hit the shower, see if it will blow any of these cob webs away. I'll try talking to Sammy again afterwards."

George watched him leave, his heart aching for the young man. He really did believe the words he had spoken though. Only Dean would eventually save Sam. As far as George was concerned, that was a given.

The shower had helped some and Dean at least felt slightly more awake as he entered the bedroom. Sam lay smothered under the duvet, only his face visible. He looked up briefly, with a look of hope in his eyes that it might be their Dad. As Dean came in he quickly looked away again. Not quite quick enough for Dean not to notice the disappointment that chased away that hope in his brothers eyes. Disappointment and something else, was that shame? Embarrassment?

Dean just gaped at Sam, surely that couldn't be it. Surely Sam wasn't ashamed? He couldn't be, could he? But why? Realization hit Dean like a shockwave, the result of which very nearly brought him to his knees.

The nightmare!

Sam had obviously dreamed about his time at the warehouse. He had obviously started to remember.

"Aww shit Sammy."

Dean strode over to Sam's bed and knelt down so that he was eye level with his brother.

"Sam."

Nothing.

"Sammy please, look at me."

Sam glanced Dean's way briefly, but couldn't hold the gaze too long before he dropped it again. It was enough for Dean though and he knew for definite now that his brother's reaction was down to shame.

"Sam, don't shut me out, please. I know you've remembered some things. . . . "

Dean watched as Sam's eyes looked his way once more, tears threatening to fall.

"Yes, I know you've remembered. I know that you remember me being there and I'm sorry that you have remembered that, but Sam you have nothing, and I mean nothing to be ashamed off. Please don't think that you have."

As Sam's tears silently began to fall, he burrowed deeper into the duvet his eyes and nose now the only things visible to Dean.

"Sam, please. You've done nothing wrong. Please don't think that I'm ashamed of you in anyway. I'm not at all. I love you man. I'm proud of you. Your still here, your still alive and together, I swear, we will make every thing alright again. Don't be embarrassed or ashamed Sam, you have no reason to feel that way."

Sam just burrowed deeper, his eyes the only thing left for Dean to see, it almost seemed to Dean that Sam was like a retreating tortoise. He sighed deeply, George's words echoing in his mind. He had to be strong for Sam. It didn't matter about himself, it only mattered that Sam was happy. If that meant relinquishing the reins to his Dad for awhile, so be it. He wiped a hand across his face before trying again.

"Sammy, hey, look at me a second. I'll trade you okay?"

Dean was glad to see that he still had Sam's attention.

"If you'll have a shower and eat just a little, we'll call Dad and you can talk to him. Well he'll do all the talking, but at least you can hear his voice. Find out how long he's gonna be. What do you think? Fair trade?"

Sam, after a few seconds thinking gave a barely noticeable nod.

"C'mon then, lets get you up. I'll help you to the bathroom but then you're on your own. Just don't lock the door."

Dean moved the duvet back to allow Sam to get up. He barely managed to suppress a laugh at the sight that was revealed to him. Sam was swaddled in so many clothes, he looked fifty pounds heavier. Sweat pants were tucked into thick woolen socks, above which Dean could see at least two t-shirts, a button down, a hoodie, his own jacket and wrapped tightly around the whole ensemble, was Sam's baby blanket.

After making sure that Sam had enough towels Dean left him to his shower and went down stairs to start breakfast.

Even though he was alone in the bathroom, Sam still felt nervous undressing, still felt people were watching him. So much so he refused to remove his boxers and had showered with them still on. He didn't take too long with his shower, he felt too unsafe, too exposed without his clothes to hide him. Toweling off quickly, he wrapped one of Jim's robes tightly around him and went in search of some fresh clothes.

He knew that they had all been placed in the room his Dad would be using. Entering the room Sam found his bag quickly enough, getting a selection out he quickly dressed. Even fully dressed he still didn't feel safe enough.

Rummaging through his dad's bag he searched for the small army knife he knew he kept there. As he delved further he had to move an envelope out of the way. His hand reaching the bottom he finally brushed against the knife he was looking for and grasping it he started to pull it out.

The envelope was still in the way, gripping the edge he pulled. It was upside down. As Sam pulled it out the contents spilled free.

Sam felt as though he was caught in an avalanche. Wave after wave of emotions crashed over him, crushing, constricting, smothering, suffocating. He couldn't breathe, couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart.

His fingers moved as though with a mind of their own and he picked up one of the photos, then another, then another. Each time he unconsciously touched the place that Lesley was touching. As he got to the one where she was touching the very top of his inner thigh he threw up, not caring that most of it landed on him self.

He spotted the video, he had an idea what would be on it, but he had to know for sure, he stuck it in the machine and pressed play.

Shame, embarrassment, anguish, grief, disgust, hurt, pain, sadness Sam felt them all as the camera panned from Dean to him. Nausea stuck once more, as the knowledge hit.

His Dad knew, his Dad knew.

No doubt he would be as disgusted as Dean was in him, would despise him, no longer love him.

As those thoughts crashed through his mind, he reacted. Taking the tape out he hurled it through the window. Looking at the shards on the floor he knew what he needed to do, he'd tried once and had stopped, this time he wouldn't.

Dean had dropped the plate of bacon when he had heard the sound of the breaking glass. Casting an eye George's way, they both jumped up and sprinted up the stairs. At finding the bathroom and their bedroom empty, they headed for John's.

It was empty.

Broken glass littered the floor and pictures were spilling out of one of the duffels.

"Oh shit!" George couldn't believe it. Why hadn't John destroyed them? He rushed to pick up the photos before Dean could see them. He wasn't quick enough.

"What the fuck? George what the hell are these? Where did they come from? Did she. . . Did she send them to dad? What went out the window?"

"Dean, focus, we need to find Sam. I'll tell you about this later. Where would he go?"

"Tell me now!"

"No."

"Please George, tell me."

George hesitated before telling Dean about the photos and the video, ending it with his guess that the video had been the thing to have gone through the window.

"Did you see it, them?" Dean asked eventually.

"The video?" At Dean's nod, he finished. "No, the pictures only one."

"How about the others?"

"Caleb saw a photo, that's all. Now Dean, where would Sam go?"

"George to get out he would have to go past us, he has to still be up here." Dean paused as past memories came into his head. "I know where he'll be."

Leaving John's bedroom they walked down the hall to Jim's. Dean opened the door and entered. Walking over to the bed he looked underneath, his breath catching as he found Sam under there. It caught in his throat again when he caught sight of the blood and the piece of window in Sam's hand.

"Sammy! Shit George, help me get him out of here."

Together they pulled a bloody, messed up, Sam from under the bed. Once they'd succeeded they could finally see the damage Sam had inflicted. Deep cuts marred his face and neck, and as Dean moved Sam's shirt sleeves he could see the attempts to take his life all too clearly on his wrists.

"Aw, shit Sammy. No. No."

Sam's eyes had lapsed back into his staring mode, the tears back once again. Low murmur's flowing from his lips. "I couldn't do it, I couldn't do it. At least no one will want me now."

"Fuck George. Why weren't they destroyed? Why does he still have them? Fuck!"

Dean stormed from the room and back down the stairs. Picking up his phone he dialed his dad's number. As John was with Lesley, it was Caleb who answered.

"Dean?"

"Put my dad on!"

"Dean he's busy."

"Caleb, put my fucking Dad on the phone."

Knowing something was wrong, as Dean rarely swore at him, Caleb went to get John.

"Dean, what's wrong? What's the matter?"

"Why do you still have them Dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a stupid son of a bitch, Dad. You know that."

"Dean, what's happened?"

"Sammy found the photo's Dad and the video!"

John's heart fell to his stomach.

**A.N. . . . . Hope it turned out okay. Back to the torture next chapter. I know I say this every time but thanks for reading and reviewing, Peanut x**


	17. Chapter 17

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Still owned by one Eric Kripkie. George and Max the beagle are mine!**

**A.N. . . . . . Well it's finally arrived, the chapter you've been waiting for. Hope you like, Peanut x**

Lesley thought the pain she had felt when Caleb had smashed her fingers and elbow with the hammer was as bad as it was going to get. But she thought wrong. She had thought it again when John had ripped of the fingernails of her other hand with the pliers. Only to find out once again how very, very wrong she was.

For the first hours after the nail incident she had been blindfolded once more and left alone in the room. Sporadically the door would open and someone would enter. Who it was she never knew. They would just stand so close to her that she could hear their breathing, feel their heat, but they never spoke, just stood quiet, calm, still, inactive.

Whoever it was would leave after a while and Lesley would breathe a sigh of relief. After it had happened six or more times though it began to ware her down. She would start to panic every time she heard the footsteps approaching, every time the door would open, every time she felt the person stood watching her. Her breathing would hitch, her pulse racing faster and faster, she would ask her self the questions, would this be the time? Would it happen now?

By the time the number had reached double figures, she was becoming crazed with the need to know those answers. She would pray for the pain to start once more, because anything was better than this not knowing. This silent treatment.

There had been a longer break after number twelve. She had been left to stew, left to ponder, left to her own delusional thoughts. And then it started and Lesley began to pray for those quiet moments.

John had returned. He removed the blindfold and had stood looking down on her with disgust and loathing clearly written on his face. The first bout of torture had been concentrated on her own features. The razor blade so sharp, she had at first felt nothing as he began to carve into her face, take chunks out of her face in some places, in others cutting deeper just leaving a permanent reminder. The pain had come later, when the salt from her tears had mixed with the salt that John had rubbed into the cuts and the agony was intensified.

When John had finally finished, he had stood back and studied his work. The mass of scars would do for now. It was a beginning.

He'd left then, leaving Lesley to start her thinking once more. Was that it? Was it over? What had he done to her pretty face?

Some of these questions were answered some time later when John once again entered the room. He had stood quietly behind her this time. Watching, waiting, he wasn't to be disappointed. Lesley's anxiety had built. He watched as she tried to turn her head to catch a glimpse of him. He watched as her breathing quickened and he watched her failed attempts to control it. Lesley lost the battle and started yelling at him, anything to break this unbearable calmness, this quiet, this unknowing. The punishments were bad enough but this, this was brutal.

John finally moved closer behind her. He brought his arm around and showed her the cut throat razor that George had used on Paul. The young mans blood still to be seen dried and crusted on the hilt. Lesley's eyes widened, then gaped open as John roughly grabbed her hair. She cried out and begged for forgiveness.

John's wrath almost cracked, for a second he contemplated getting it over with and killing her quickly. But then she pleaded for her hair to be left alone.

And the wrath bubbled over.

How dare she! Sam had been beaten, drugged, brainwashed, molested and raped by her and her sister and she was begging him to leave her hair. John's cruel laugh was all the answer she got. As the first chunk of scalp and hair was removed, she tried again to plead for him to stop. But John was by this time livid, he cut harder, deeper, faster. By the end there were only a few tufts left, fighting to be noticed on her bloody, pulpy skull. Lesley had passed out by then, the agony of the torture too much.

When she came too, she knew straight away that there was somebody already in the room. Questions ravaged through her brain. How long had she been out? Had they done anything to her, while she had been? When was this going to end? What could they possibly do to her that could be worse than the scalping? That could hurt more?

As Caleb came into her line of sight, John standing behind him, her stomach dropped. Although in crippling pain, she tried to move away from him. Unable to do so, she felt a wash of panic grip her. She thought back to the day Caleb had stormed into the room, his muscles taut, his fists clenched and those eyes. Those eyes that had been so black and empty and terrifying. Whatever was planned she knew that it would be the worst yet. She was not wrong.

As Caleb held her down, John used the cut throat once more. He pressed it into the flesh at the top of her thigh. As the blade cut deep, he turned it slightly and pulled it down the leg finishing above her knee. Being careful he took the blade out, leaving behind a long flap of skin. He carefully smoothed it back into place; the agony from that injury would come later.

John swapped places with Caleb. The younger man had watched John maim Lesley, had heard her plea's and cries, but it wasn't enough. Caleb wanted screams and wails and howls of pure anguish. And what Caleb wanted, Caleb was gonna get. His weapon of choice hadn't come from their usual stash. No, his weapon of choice had come from the kitchen.

As the grater ground into her skin, Caleb got the affect he was hoping for. Lesley's pain receptors escalated, her nerve endings became like fire and she yelled and screamed and wailed and howled. After the fourth pass she had fell into blessed unconsciousness, but Caleb had carried on. Gouging through the skin and flesh and muscle.

John had eventually stopped him in the end; he wasn't ready for her to die just yet. She was left alone again. One thigh roughly skinned the other with a flap of skin cut into it, ready for John to use later.

When John returned for the fourth time, Lesley was barely lucid. John's words spoken harshly yesterday had come true. Between the pain and the unknowing she was slowly but surely being driven insane. With a voice made dry from lack of water and screaming, she tried once more to convince John to let her go. Her pleadings falling on deaf ears, she started to fade back into oblivion.

She had almost succeeded, but then John had ripped the flap of skin. The skin that had started to bond back together was harshly pulled back apart and the agony brought Lesley back to the here and now. Taking out a bottle of peroxide he poured it on to the open wound and watched as Lesley bucked and thrust, trying to get away from the burning and smarting.

He left her for a second to go and plug in an extension cord. Walking back over after he did so he waited for the heat of the iron to increase. Once it had reached it optimum temperature, he slowly began to angle it towards her chest, pressing down on the steam button as he did so, holding it down until the skin bubbled and charred. Taking it off he pressed it down onto another part of her chest and left it once more until it scalded and branded. He was about to go for a third time when the door to the room opened.

"John, its Dean. Something is wrong."

"I'm busy." John answered, not really hearing what Caleb had said.

Getting into his line of sight, Caleb tried again. "John, Dean wants you, something is wrong."

John eyes began to focus on Caleb at last. "Caleb?"

"Dean wants to talk to you. I'll watch her." Caleb said as he handed the phone over.

"Dean, what's the matter? What's wrong?"

"Why do you still have them Dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a stupid son of a bitch Dad. Do you know that?"

"Dean, what's happened?"

"Sammy found the photos Dad and the video."

At Dean's words John dropped the phone, his legs gave out and he followed it to the floor. What have I done? He thought to himself.

Caleb watched as John followed the phone to the floor, rushing over he tried to get through to the older man. At getting no luck he finally picked up the discarded phone.

"Dean, its Caleb again. What the hells wrong?"

"Why don't you ask my Dad? Why don't you ask him why he was so stupid?"

"Dean! Would you just tell me?"

"Why did he keep them?"

"Keep what? What are you going on about?" Although he thought he knew.

"The video and the pictures, Caleb."

Yeah, his thoughts were true. "Fuck!"

"You got that right, but that isn't the worst news."

Caleb felt sick. He just knew what Dean was about to say next.

"Sammy found them! Sammy found them and he. . . . . he. . . . ."

"Dean, what happened? What did Sam do?"

"He tried to. . . . . . he tried to. . . . . he tried to kill himself again."

"No Sammy no! Dean please tell me he's okay."

"He's alive."

"But?"

"He messed up his face really bad, Caleb. The wrist wounds are deep, but he couldn't go through with it. He stopped again."

"You're holding back Dean, what else?"

"He's regressed again." Dean thought his own tears would flow once more as he heard the hardened hunter choke back a sob. "Caleb, I need my Dad back here. I can't do this alone. How long do you think you'll be?"

Caleb turned to ask John, not prepared for the scene that befell him.

John had heard Caleb's side of the conversation and could tell that his mistake had cost his youngest son dearly. Crushed and defeated, he no longer had the will to hurt the bitch anymore. He just wanted it over. He wanted to forget Lesley and the Burton's. He wanted to forget this whole nightmare, to get his son back from the brink, to start all over again. He just wanted and needed to be with his family.

Getting up he walked over to Lesley. Slapping her awake, he waited for her eyes to focus on him, before taking out his knife and slitting her throat. As he caught Caleb turning around he beckoned for the phone.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"I know Dad, me too." Dean's sobs could no longer be held back. Through them he managed to choke out. "I need you here Dad, please."

"I'll be there in a few hours son, I promise."

After hanging up the phone he turned back to Lesley. He still thought that this was too good an ending for her, but he'd realized that he had more important things to do. That it wasn't all about revenge. That his sons were worth more than revenge could ever be.

He watched though as the blood flowed from her throat, as her breathing got shallower, as the spark left her eyes. Needing to know that it was finally over.

**A.N. . . . . . . Hope that it turned out okay. I must admit that it actually turned out to be the most hardest chapter to write, I've done to date. I don't know why, because you guys gave me some brilliant torture ideas. **

**Speaking of which I have to thank,**

**Sweetysmart0505, for the idea of making Lesley hate the fact she was now gonna be ugly.**

**JoyofReading, who suggested scalping, hope it turned out okay?**

**Irishgirl9, who asked for burning, was with an iron okay?**

**1Pagan3, who requested a bit of skinning, was the grater a bit too much?**

**Oh and finally my fan fiction widowed Hubby who was the one who suggested the grater. God how sadistic does my family sound?**

**If I have forgotten anyone let me know and I will thank you next chapter, somebody did suggest a car lighter and I was gonna put it in, but checking it out it just wouldn't work, sorry. Anyway, as always thanks for reading, Peanut x**


	18. Chapter 18

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary . . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Still only the owner of two DVD sets and nothing else.**

**A.N. . . . . . Belated thanks to Paperclipped-Sized-Memories for the ideas. Happy reading, Peanut x **

After finishing the phone call with his Dad, Dean felt like the whole world was collapsing around him. This was too much, they couldn't be back here, back to the beginning again. He desperately wanted to punch something, hurt something, kill something. He wanted to run away from everything, to hide, to grieve, to sob. He felt lost and alone and once again he doubted his ability to be able to bring Sam back.

His eyes drifted to the front door, the urge to leave building by the second. He couldn't do this, he wasn't strong enough. He started walking towards it, ready to bolt. His eyes filling with tears, his mind filled with feelings of guilt. Guilt for wanting to leave, guilt for not helping Sam. As he passed the fire place his eye was caught by an image there. He turned to get a closer look, thoughts of leaving, deserting, not even trying, fled his mind in an instant.

It was a photo of Sam, obviously taken by Pastor Jim at Thanks Giving. His brother had been captured unawares. Max was attempting to pinch a piece of the pie that Sam was eating. With such a huge smile on his face, Sam was trying to hold the eager beagle at bay.

Dean couldn't help the chuckle that escaped; he wanted to see Sam that happy once more. He couldn't go, couldn't leave, couldn't not try and that smile was the reason why. Dean so desperately needed to see it again. He yearned to see it again and he was going to make sure that he did see it again. He didn't care how long it was going to take, or what he had to do. He was going to bring Sam back.

With new resolve he quickly grabbed Jim's first aid kit and raced back upstairs. He'd been away from Sam for far too long. He needed to get back, needed the contact with his brother, needed to fix Sam up on the outside so that they could then start on the more serious damage inside.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

George had stayed with Sam when Dean had fled the room. He could hear him shouting at someone he presumed was John and had tried to listen, but couldn't make out the words Dean was saying, so instead had turned back to Sam. Stripping a sheet from Jim's bed, hoping that he wouldn't mind, he started wiping the blood from Sam's various cuts. Murmuring words in a comforting voice.

"Hey Sammy, you sure did make a mess this time didn't you, son. Let's have a look at your face. There we go, now lets get those arms sorted out."

George was at least thankful that the bleeding had slowed, but some of the cuts looked deep he thought and would probably require another hospital trip. As Dean walked into the room he made his thoughts known, only to have them immediately shot down by the young hunter. He tried again to reason with him.

"Dean, he needs a hospital."

"No, if we take him there they will want to have him committed and I won't allow that to happen. So, no, he stays here."

"Okay, but at least get him a doctor out here."

"No."

"No?"

"No. Help me get him onto Jim's bed."

"Why? Dean, what are you up to?"

"I'm going to stitch him up and you're going to help me."

"Me?"

"Yes, think of yourself as nurse to my doctor." Dean responded around a tight smile.

"Now is so not the time for jokes, Dean."

"Hey! If I don't joke I'll cry." Dean stated, immediately feeling embarrassed for sharing such a thought. "George I need your help. Are you going to help me, or do I have to wait for Jim to get back?"

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

Dean gave George a scathing incredulous look. "Dude, I've been stitching up Sam and my Dad since I was eight years old."

George still looked unconvinced. Gently turning Sam, Dean lifted his shirts.

"See that?" He asked pointing at a nearly unnoticeable faded scar. "That's my work." Pointing at two others, he added. "And those. George I know what I'm doing, but I'll need your help. If I do this, I can take my time and minimize the scarring. If he goes to a doctor, they won't care as much. I don't want Sam, when he gets back, to have permanent reminders. Please George."

"Okay, okay. What do you want me to do?"

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

In the end, after Sam had been sedated and given an anesthetic, it had taken almost an hour and a half for Dean to deal with all the cuts on his little brother's face and neck. The smallness of the stitches increasing the time it would have normally taken. By the time he was through Dean was shattered, his eyes ached and a headache had formed from the strain of such detailed work.

Dean almost thanked a God he wasn't sure he believed in, when Jim finally came home and offered to do Sam's arms. He sat back in Jim's chair and watched the older man work. He hadn't meant to but within minutes fatigue and his own still healing injuries combined and he was fast asleep.

He never heard Jim and George finish up with Sam. Never heard them carefully cover his younger brother up. Never heard or felt them do the same to him. Never heard them leave. He never even heard his Dad's truck returning, or hear him enter the room.

The day was fading to night when he finally stirred. He sat for a few minutes with his eyes closed. His mind still in that blissfully unaware stage between sleep and fully awake. A movement to his left soon brought him aware and his hunters instincts kicked into overdrive.

Jumping from his chair, he positioned himself between whoever was in the room and his sibling. He knew he was weaponless but he'd protect Sam at all costs.

"Dean, son, it's me. You can stand down, relax."

All traces of sleep left Dean's eyes as he heard his Dad's voice. Finally focusing on the older man, leaning against a dresser in the dusky light, all Dean's fears, guilt and sadness overwhelmed him. Closing the gap between them, he flung himself into his Dad's chest and allowed it all to come flowing out.

John, shocked at first at his son's breakdown, couldn't help it as his own emotions bubbled over. Putting his own arms around his hurting older boy, he tightened the hug and allowed his own tears to drop. They needed this release, they would be stronger for Sam after this and they would help him find his way back.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

After a few minutes John released from the hold, grasping his son's face in both hands, he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

"Hey son. It's going to be okay. It's going to be alright. I promise."

"How do you know that? How can you say that? You didn't see him before Dad. What if Sam doesn't want to come back?"

"He will come back, Dean. He will. You just have to trust in faith. Trust in Sam."

"I don't know Dad. I don't know if I'd want to come back."

"Yes, you would."

"How do you know that?"

"Cause you would never leave Sam! And Sammy will never leave you! He will find his way back and you will help him find it. He loves you Dean, he will make his way back to you."

"I hope so Dad. I can't lose him."

Both men fell quiet after Dean's last words. Dean had perched himself on the edge of Jim's bed, John taking up residence in the chair his son had vacated. Both men just watching, studying, eyeing every movement Sam made. It was Dean who finally broke the silence.

"Why did you keep them?" His tone wasn't angry or accusatory, just curious and weary.

John thought about his answer. He had been shocked at his youngest son's appearance when he had entered the room. Gauze patches covered the majority of his face and neck, and two bandages were wrapped around his wrists. The guilt had nearly brought the hardened hunter to his knees. This was his fault, his blame.

John coughed to clear his throat, then looking directly at Dean he answered. "Everything just started happening so fast, I just didn't think. I wanted to hurt that bitch so badly for what she had done to Sam, to you that I just forgot they were there. My drive for revenge consumed me and I just forgot and by doing so I hurt Sam. For that I am truly sorry, Dean. I hope that you believe me. That you can forgive me."

"I do Dad and Sam will too, you'll see. I'm just sorry that it came to this."

"Me too, son. I thought that they would be okay in the bottom of my duffle. Sammy had no reason to even go in there. I thought they would be safe until I got back."

"Dad, I don't even know why he went in there; it's not like him to go through your things."

"George found my army knife on the floor along with the photo's. We think Sam got scared and was searching for a weapon."

A silence had fallen again between the two men, before it was once more lifted by Dean.

"What do we do now? How do we start bringing him back?"

John gave a small laugh. "I was hoping you could tell me. I'll just be following you on this one son. You just need to do whatever you were doing at the hospital. It was working there. It'll work again."

The first smile of the day graced Dean's lips at his Dad's praise. He would do it again, he could do it again.

John watched as Dean's eyes shone with determination. The look of defeat, gone. Once again he marveled at how strong his two boys' were. He hoped and prayed that Mary could see them, that she was looking down over them, that she could see how much he loved them, was proud of them. He hoped that in the coming months she could provide them with her strength, her love.

He wiped at the errant tear that had fallen before he spoke up. "Dean, get some rest. I'll bring you some food up in a bit. You and Sam are staying in here for tonight."

Dean nodded and watched as his Dad left the room. Turning back to a sleeping Sam, he crawled up the bed so that he could rest beside him. Pleased when, if only in sleep and if only for tonight, Sam turned and burrowed closer to his side. Placing a comforting arm loosely around his younger brother he closed his eyes.

Tomorrow they would start the hard task once more.

**A.N. . . . . . Hope that was okay for you? I thought I'd give you a little breather after the torture chapter before the heavy stuff comes again. Thanks as always to everyone for reading and reviewing. Chapter 19 up soon, Peanut x**


	19. Chapter 19

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary . . . . They thought they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer . . . . Not mine, never will be, but it's fun to play with them.**

**A.N. . . . . . . Fans of Sammy angst beware. As always happy reading, Peanut x**

The slightest movement on the bed next to him had Sam instantly arousing from his drug induced slumber. Feeling an arm placed across his body, his heart rate escalated. Panic coursed through his muddled brain and he began to tremble. He couldn't think straight, he was safe wasn't he? No, no he wasn't he was with some one who looked like Sherry. No, no he was back with his Dad and Dean and they were back home. But this didn't look like home, smell like home, feel like home.

As the person shifted on the bed and the arm was removed, he felt a momentary wave of relief. Perhaps he was safe, perhaps he was at home. As they moved again and he felt, even through the blankets, the arm brush against his backside the wave changed to terror and cresting it began crashing down over him. Engulfing him, smothering him, consuming him. He wasn't safe, he wasn't with his family. He was with her.

Disgust and loathing and humiliation, he felt them all. He couldn't go through that again, he wouldn't. He needed to get away, to run, to hide. Still groggy from the effects of the sedative and painkillers, he slowly and with great care began easing his way out from under the covers. Careful to make as little movements as possible he began to edge his way to the side of the bed. As his feet touched the floor he breathed a sigh of relief, so far so good.

Although the room was dark, he could see a line of light peeking under the door and headed stealthily towards it. He reached for the handle and turned it, pulling the door open. Terror shot through him as it creaked achingly loud in the dead of the night. The person on the bed though stayed sleeping. He stepped into the hallway and headed for the stairs.

His mind broken and bewildered didn't recognize the familiarity of the place, only his desperate need to get away from her. He froze as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the loud sounds of snoring coming from the room to his left. Somebody else was here.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, it couldn't be happening again. He couldn't go through those things again. He fought down the urge to run and gradually managed to slow his breathing down. He was nearly there, nearly free. He turned to the right and entered the kitchen.

As he did so, the good and bad sides of his mind fought themselves, he knew this place. He recognized it a as place of love, of happiness. But there were people here who would hurt him. No, the people here loved him. But she was here, she would make him do things again, things that he didn't want to do. No, Jim was here, Jim wouldn't let anyone harm him. He would keep him safe.

Safe, safe there was that word again. He had felt safe here not too long ago, but now he no longer felt he was. The good and bad sides of his mind stopped their constant fighting, the bad side the victor. He didn't feel safe here, he needed to leave and he knew just the place that he thought he could find that safe haven.

Opening the back door he crept out, not bothering in his haste to close it after him. Not noticing either, the pair of eyes that had been following his every move.

oooooooOOOOOOOooooooo

Sam stole lightly across the ground between the two buildings and crept quietly inside the one he thought would finally give him some peace, some solace, some safety, some hope. He had always loved this place. He loved how it smelt, musty and old. He loved how in the day time the light seemed to dance with a multiple of colors. He loved the quietness. But most of all he loved the feeling that someone was always watching over him. He settled on a pew near the back and allowed his mind to drift, to become blank, to forget. Here he was safe.

The pair of eyes followed Sam across the grass and into the church. Following furtively, they peered cautiously around the door. Finding its quarry, it padded gently inside and sneaked up on it slowly.

Sam shivered slightly as the coldness of the old church reminded him that he had left without a jacket. His eyes fixed on the large cross at the front, he never saw anyone approach, never heard anyone softly make their way down towards him. The soft bump to his leg had him jumping and fearful. Panic overwhelmed him once again.

He had been found. She was here. He would be punished for his attempt to leave. He struggled to breathe, feeling the oncoming of dizziness as his lungs fought to gain the air they so desperately needed. He tried to get away but it only seemed to elevate his panic and made his breathing all the more difficult. It was only as he dared to look around, that his throat finally loosened and he gasped in a deep breath.

If he had been feeling his normal self he would have found the situation funny, but he was so far from normal. As he looked into the puppy dogs eyes, that so rivaled his own or so he had been told, he felt an onslaught of sorrow instead and he cried. Deep, gut wrenching, heartfelt sobs.

Picking Max up he cuddled the beagle close to him. Max almost as if he knew, allowed him self to be cuddled and resisted his more natural urge to lick and fidget, allowing Sam to relish in his warmth, his strength, his unconditional love.

As Sam became tired once more he curled up as best he could on the pew and with Max cradled in the crook of his legs, protecting him, he fell asleep.

oooooooOOOOOOOooooooo

Max's soft snores on the floor beneath him had Sam awaking once more around dawn, cold and in a world of pain. The drugs from yesterday now completely out of his system, the results of his own destruction were letting them selves be known. His face, neck and arms throbbed painfully. The position he had slept in hadn't help either, when he tried to move his neck it felt stiff and achy.

Turning onto his back, tears formed in his eyes as he remembered events of yesterday. The fear that he had been found again, that he was still with her. His finding of the video and the photos. His realization that not only Dean, but his Dad too, knew of the things that had been done to him, knew of the things that he was made to do, was devastating.

In his mind he was already going over the scenarios. His family would be disgusted with him. They would no longer need him, want him, love him. How could they? To his confused, disconnected and fractured mind he was loathsome to them. He was after all the weak one, the runt, the failure.

He had never lived up to Dean in his Dad's eyes and this . . . . . . . this had just confirmed it as far as he was concerned. He was useless, worthless, pathetic. Dean and definitely not his Dad, would never have allowed this to happen to them.

They would have fought.

They would have gotten away.

They would have killed first.

They would never have been . . . . . . .

But not him, he had allowed himself to be taken, used, beaten, drugged and if that wasn't bad enough, he had allowed it to happen again. He really was a pathetic excuse for a boy, a hunter, a son.

He could understand now his Dad not loving him as much as Dean. Why should he? Who in their right mind would want to love and boast about somebody as pitiful as he was? Someone who would let people do such vile things to him? Someone who sat back and didn't fight? Who would ever want to claim him as their child?

No, he was the unwanted one, the one who no matter how hard he tried, always seemed to be the cause of his families troubles. Hadn't he after all been the one who caused his mothers death?

He felt the guilt fighting for control once more, guilt and contrition and remorse and shame and humiliation.

He hated how he felt so dirty, vile, gross, sordid and repulsive. He so desperately wanted to die, to leave this world, so that nobody would ever have to worry about him messing up any longer. So that his family could be happy, not having to haul his sorry ass around. But even at that task, he had found himself to be a failure.

The tears that had been threatening fell once more and the gloom and loathing and embarrassment settled further. As he felt the wetness trail down his face and into his hair, he detested him self all the more.

A hunter would never cry.

A soldier would never cry.

A Winchester would never cry.

He fought a losing battle to stop the rivers that now cascaded from his eyes, but it was no use and with a feeling of yet another failure rushing around his head, he submitted and let them fall all the more.

oooooooOOOOOOOooooooo

Allowing himself to sit up, the tears still flowing freely, he looked up once more at the cross. His eyes almost begging it to give him the strength he so desperately needed, to give him the answers to the questions that raced constantly around his head.

Why had this happened to him?

What had he done that was so wrong?

What had he done to make them do this?

It had to be something he had done, right?

Was this his punishment for his mother's death?

Was this God's will?

His anguish increased at that thought.

He had always been the more religious one in the family, the believer. Yet another thing that his Dad could yell at him for, hate him for. Was it really God's will that this had happened? In his troubled mind he began to believe so. It felt like a he had been hit to the solar plexus, the air rushed out of him as comprehension hit. His Dad and Dean didn't want him, didn't need him, were better off without him and now God had deserted him too.

Everything inside of him felt broken, shattered and destroyed. Without his family, his faith he felt empty, void and so terribly alone. His will to live was gone. He couldn't kill himself. Twice he had tried that and failed. But maybe he could do something else, do something that would make his family proud, that would finally make them happy.

He could leave.

**A.N. . . . .Well how was it? Was it angsty enough? I hope so, thanks as always for taking time to read. Chapter 20 up as soon as possible. Peanut x**


	20. Chapter 20

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary . . . . . They thought they could rebuild there lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer . . . . Not mine, but I have a plan!**

**A.N . . . . . . I'm posting today, because there's something happening tomorrow. What could it be? For the life of me I can't think what! Oh yeah that's right, the boys are back in town! Yippee! Enjoy Peanut x**

John silently pushed open the door to Jim's room. He had slept badly the previous night. Unknowingly to Dean, he had slipped his eldest a mild sedative into his food. He'd noticed Dean's dark circles, tired eyes and him trying to mask the pain he was still in. Knowing that his son would refuse to rest he had resorted to the sneak tactics.

Guilt had eaten away at him though and that was why he found himself, at five thirty in the morning, eager to check on his two sons. His heart dropped to his stomach when he could finally make out the shapes in the room. This couldn't be happening again. Shit! His good intentions, in making sure that Dean received the rest he so badly needed, seemed to have backfired with Sam being the loser once again.

Sam wasn't in the room. John quickly rushed over to Dean's side. Frantically he began tapping his son's face.

"Dean, Dean. C'mon son. I need you to wake up now." He kept repeating.

Precious seconds passed by before Dean started to rouse. Gradually he opened heavy eyes and sleepily looked at his Dad's anxious, anguished features.

"Dad, what's wrong?" He eventually managed to slur out.

"Dean, I'm sorry. Sam's not here."

Dean didn't seem to hear his Dad's apology, as his mind registered the enormity of his final words. Groggily he tried to sit up, surprised to find how hard the small task was.

"Dad, something is wrong with me."

"As I said Dean, I'm sorry." John replied, wondering to himself just how many more mistakes he would make, that would end up hurting his youngest son. Hell, both his son's.

"What have you done?" Dean growled out.

"You needed rest too, son. I knew you wouldn't, so I crushed a sedative into your food."

Dean couldn't believe his ears, surely he had heard wrong? His own body though, was telling him otherwise. He struggled to contain his anger at his father. It wouldn't help at the minute, they needed to find Sam.

Unable to contain it all, he hissed out to his father in anger. "You better pray he's okay."

John was the first to look away, unable to cope with the venom that seemed to blaze from his son's eyes. It was a calmer Dean that spoke a few seconds later.

"Help me up?"

John reached out an arm to help Dean stand, grasping hold that little bit tighter when he swayed suddenly. After Dean regained his equilibrium, they both headed for the door.

Josh, George and Jim all woke as the sounds of banging doors and shout's of Sam's name reverberated through out the house. Josh and George rushing upstairs, as Jim emerged from what should have been the boy's room. A chorus of questions followed.

"What's the matter?"

"What's happened?"

"What's wrong with Sam?"

"Where's Sam?"

"Sam's missing again." John finally managed to get out between questions.

Collective gasps and profanities returned his statement. Dean who up until this point had been quiet, leaning against a door jam to keep him self upright, looked around before asking.

"Where's Caleb?"

The four older men all looked around bewildered. In their rush and panic none of them had noticed that he wasn't there. Where was the hunter?

"He was sleeping downstairs, when I crashed last night. He wasn't there just now though." Josh spoke out.

"Shit, do you think something has happened to the two of them?" George asked.

"No! I can't see that. Caleb wouldn't have gone without a fight. One of us would have heard something and woken up." John replied, unwilling to look his eldest son in the eye once more. "He's probably gone for his run, it's a bit early but you know Caleb."

"Dad, we need to find Sam. We don't even know how long he's been gone. He could be anywhere."

"I know son and we will. He's not up here, so that only leaves the kitchen."

All five men rushed down the stairs. Hoping against hope, that Sam had just woken up thirsty and made his way there. The kitchen stood empty.

"Shit! Sammy! No!" Dean managed to choke out. Exhaustion, pain and the remnants of the sedative all added up to heighten his already battered emotions. He could feel him self cracking once more. He started to turn away, unwilling to allow the other men see him crying.

"Dean!" George shouted. Noticing the younger man's near breakdown. When he could see Dean start to get control he plowed on. "Dean, you found him yesterday. You can do it again. Think, where would he go?"

Dean coughed, clearing his throat. Closing his eyes he thought back to the many times in his own and Sam's childhood that they had stayed here. Where would Sam go? If he wanted some where to go to read, to think, to do his homework, he always snuck into Jim's bedroom. But if he was upset, or mad, or wanted to get away from Dad, he would always go to. . . . . . . . . . .

"The church! He'll be at the church."

oooooooOOOOOOOooooooo

Caleb hadn't been asleep, as Josh had thought when the other hunter had turned in last night. Far from it. Sleep had not wanted to come the hunter's way. He still believed that Lesley had gotten off too easy.

After forcing the two guys to watch as they had salted and burned the bitches' body, they had left John to return to his son's and had dropped the two guys in their respective home towns. Josh had already been to there house's to bug their phone lines, so that any conversations could be heard. That and the threat of what would happen to them if they did talk, was enough for them to be set free.

When Caleb and Josh had finally arrived at Jim's place though and Caleb had seen first hand the damage the youngest Winchester had done to him self, he was regretting their decision to let them go. He wanted to kill them. And as for Lesley, he wished he could resurrect her, torture her, kill her and salt and burn her all over again. In his mind though, he thought, even that would not be punishment enough.

So he had found himself faking sleep, until George's even breathing and Joshua's snores had sounded out. For the rest of the night he had stared at the ceiling, awash with grief for Sam. Or watching the red numbered lights change on the clock of Jim's video.

Those said numbers had just turned past two thirty five when Caleb heard the creak of a door upstairs. Thinking nothing of it he returned to his thoughts, only to have them broken moments later as his hearing picked up somebody at the bottom of the stairs. He averted his eyes in time to catch Sam entering the kitchen.

Getting up, careful not to arouse George or Josh, he slipped his feet into his boots and headed off to follow Sam. By the time he reached the kitchen, Sam was no longer there. Spying the open back door and the rear end of a beagle sneaking through it, he crossed over to it. What was Sam up to? Where was he going?

Stepping into the cool night air, he waited and watched as first Sam and then the beagle entered the small church. Heading back inside he grabbed his jacket and a weapon, before returning once more outside.

Once he arrived at the church though, the normally assured hunter paused and panicked. What should he do now? Sam had obviously picked here to come and find his peace, should he just rush in and disrupt him? Take that away from him? Should he rush in and have Sam resent him for being there? But what if Sam was planning another burst of anger, shouldn't he just make sure he wasn't?

Caution won out in Caleb's mind. He would never be able forgive him self if Sam did him self more damage. He decided he would creep in, make sure Sam was okay, but not reveal him self just yet.

Caleb gradually eased his head around the door. As he caught sight of Sam he felt as though the ground beneath his feet had been tugged away.

Sam's gut wrenching sobs reached his ears, at the same time as Caleb's eyes found Sam clinging to Max. For the first time in his life he felt something he had never felt before. Hopelessness.

He had no idea how to deal with this. He wasn't Dean. He didn't have the words. A tickle on his neck had him reaching for the source. Feeling his hand come away wet, it slowly dawned on him that his own tears where flowing freely. Being toughened up by his own father after his mothers death, he could not remember the last time he had allowed him self to let go.

It was almost as if the touch of his own tears resolved his feelings of hopelessness. He couldn't talk to Sam like Dean could. Hell he didn't even think that Sam was ready for talking. But he could make sure that Sam was safe, that while he wanted to be alone, to grieve, he would at least be protected.

So Caleb, after grabbing one of the churches kneeling cushions, for which he knew he would have to face Jim's wrath, perched him self on the churches steps and prepared to wait out the night. Periodically popping his head back around the door to be sure that Sam hadn't done anything stupid.

oooooooOOOOOOOooooooo

As the five men stepped outside they were greeted by the sight of Caleb rising stiffly from the churches steps, stretching out his muscles. All five rushed over. Dean, all traces of the sedative forgotten in his need to find Sam, was the first one to reach the other hunter. Caleb held up his hand to stop them.

"He's safe. He's in the church; he's been there since about half past two."

A muttering of thank god's followed his words. Continuing on Caleb added.

"I don't think it would be wise for you all to go rushing in there. I think it would do more harm than good."

As the mutterings grew to rumbles, the other men all wanting to make sure for them selves that Sam was okay, Caleb's anger rose.

"Listen, it's not open for discussion. Dean will go in and the rest of us will stay outside. Sam's fragile at the moment. I've watched him breakdown twice already and there's no way in hell that I'm going to watch as you rush in and break him further. And yes John that means you stay outside also."

Tense moments passed as Caleb and John locked gazes, before the older hunter realizing that the younger was right, backed down. The group as a whole finally nodded there agreement to Caleb's plan. Watched by five sets of hopeful eyes, Dean slowly made his way in to the church.

His heart pounding viciously in his chest, he willed him self to be calm, be strong and no matter what Sam flung at him be there for his brother. He cautiously edged his way down the aisle and stopped at the row Sam was seated in. Not wanting to upset his brother by getting any closer, he decided to let himself be known from a distance.

"Sammy?"

**A.N. . . . . . Couldn't help it had to leave it there. Not too sure of the beginning, might have to go back and change a few things, I don't know yet. Hope you all enjoyed it and thanks for reading, Peanut x**

**Oh, sorry nearly forgot. I'm on holiday for the next five days, spending some quality time with the hubby, so the next chapter you might have to wait just a little bit longer than normal for, so sorry, Peanut x**

**By the way to all out there in fanficland, enjoy the new season tomorrow. I know I will. Oh and to those, like my mum who have to wait, sorry I didn't mean to rub it in. I know I'm evil, but even I'm not that evil, Peanut x**


	21. Chapter 21

**Months to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought that they could rebuild their lives after the Burton's died but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Well obviously they're not mine, but you can't blame a girl for dreaming!**

**A.N. . . . Yes, sorry I know it's later than usual, but I did warn you. If it helps you can blame the hubby! Oh and anything written in**_** italics**_** are Sam's thoughts. Hope it's not too confusing. Okay, okay I'll stop blithering on. Enjoy, chapter 21.**

"Sammy." Dean whispered out.

Sam jumped at the sound of his bother's voice, the movement of which woke Max, who had been sleeping in Sam's arms. The little dog, at seeing Dean, proceeded to jump down from Sam's lap and plodded past Dean heading for the door.

To Dean, it was almost as if the dog had looked at him. Telling him he would leave them alone. Telling him to be careful, that Sam was fragile and that if he hurt him, Max would hurt back. It was almost as if Max knew they needed to talk.

To Sam, it was yet another rejection. His shoulders slumped, his head lowered and the tears pricked his eyes yet again. He couldn't believe this. How was he supposed to believe that his family would ever, could ever love him again, if a damn dog couldn't wait to get away from him?

_That's right Sammy! Nobody will ever love you again. You're going to be left all alone._ "No! No!"

"Sammy, what?" Dean had heard Sam say something but had been unable to catch what the words were. He moved closer, now sitting at the other end of the pew from his younger brother.

_See here he comes again, as always to rescue you. The strong one, the one who always does things right, the one who never cries, the one who would have never let those things happen to him. He pities you Sammy. He feels sorry for you. He thinks you're weak._

"No, no he doesn't. He loves me."

_Ha! He loathes you Sammy. He's only come in here to make himself look good in front of the others. So that he can at least say that he tried before he takes you back to her. None of them want you Sammy, they all know what happened and they despise you for letting it happen. They're going to deliver you back to her, Sam. They're going to give you back to Sherry._

"NOOOOOOOOO! Please no!"

Dean jumped to his feet. What the hell was going on? They where just sitting there quietly, or so he thought, then Sam had shouted out. He moved closer again to Sam and tried once more to get through to him.

"Sammy, please, please let me in. Let me help you."

_He doesn't want to help you, Sammy. He thinks that you are worthless and pathetic and useless. He resents having to look after your sorry ass. He hates you for killing his mom, for breaking up his happy home, for allowing yourself to be raped, for being born. He wishes that he never had a brother, well at least not one as sorry and disgusting as you._

The words, breaking through more of Sam's fragile mind, began to take root. His sobbing intensified as shakes wracked his body.

_Sherry's waiting for you Sammy. She's waiting just like the first two times. Waiting for__Dean to deliver you to her again, just like before. Dean doesn't want you. He was supposed to protect you. Where was he when you needed him?_

Sam looked into his brothers eyes, when he heard those words spoken in his head. Surely not, Dean wouldn't have, would he? Dean was taken aback when Sam finally looked at him. He was shocked at the mixture of anger and hurt, but most of all the betrayal he saw radiating from his brothers wet eyes.

"Sammy? What's the matter? Please let me help." He slid even closer to Sam.

_Sherry's waiting for you. She wants you Sammy. She needs to feel you again. She wants to use you again._

Dean caught Sam's look of fear. What the hell was going on? He reached out to touch his younger sibling, unaware of the battle going on in the younger man's mind. Sam reacted instantly.

"Don't you touch me! Get the hell away from me! You don't want me! You don't even love me! You're just going to take me back to her and leave me again!"

Sam's words stung Dean, the venom in his tone piercing his veins and targeting his heart. He remembered his vow when he stepped into the church, to take whatever his brother threw at him, but this just hurt too much. His dad's words came into his head. The Winchester way of life, "suck it up! Sammy comes first."

"Sam, I do want to help you, you're my brother and I'll always love you. As for her, she dead Sam, and even if she wasn't there's no way on earth I would ever let you be back withher."

_He's lying to you Sammy. He will take you back. Nobody here loves you. How could they? You're disgusting and perverted and sick. They hate you that's why they let you be taken. They should have been protecting you, but they let you be taken instead._

"Sammy?" Dean tried again. He could see the turmoil written on Sam's face and was worried, very worried. With Sam's state of mind, he hated to think what was going on inside his brother's head. He needed to get through to him, now. Touching Sam's shoulders he tried again. "Sammy, please."

He was not prepared for the outcome of his fingers touching Sam's shoulders. Sam's arm swung back quickly and before Dean could react it had forcefully landed on his chin, his head whipping back.

"Shit, Sammy. What the hell?"

"Get the hell away from me."

Dean attempted to grab Sam again, but Sam moved further away. Tears streaming down his face he started shouting.

"You don't love me, none of you do. You were supposed to protect me and you didn't. You promised me Dean, that you would never let me be hurt again. You lied. You left me with her and you're going to leave me with her again. I know your plans; I know you don't want me, that she does. Well, I'm not going to let that happen."

"Sammy, please listen to me. I couldn't help what happened; I know I promised to keep you safe and I know I let you down. I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life, but we all started looking for you straight away. We never gave up. We would have never intentionally let anything bad happen to you, you're too important to us. We love you Sam, you have to believe me when I say that."

"You're lying. You don't love me. If you did, you would have never let that happen to me. I disgust you. I make you sick."

"Sammy, no, no, please. We love you very much."

"Lies! How can you love me? I'm soiled goods. I'm weak. I'm gross. I'm used."

Grabbing for Sam's shoulders, Dean knew things were getting worse. "Sammy. . . . ."

That was all he managed to get out before Sam's fists were flying once more. Blow after blow rained down upon Dean. Words flying out of his mouth at the same time.

"You hate me."

"Leave me alone."

"I disgust you."

"How can you love me?"

The words kept coming as the blows rained down.

Dean tried his best to block the fists, but the tiredness was returning to his body and Sam's words weren't helping. He tried again to grasp Sam's arms, avoiding his bandaged wrists, refusing to fight back, but rather to try and calm him down. He managed to grab one of Sam's arms but the other kept flailing, finally getting through Dean's defenses and slamming into his damaged ribs.

Dean screamed in agony as the blow landed. Instinctively releasing Sam's arm he cradled his own limbs protectively around his side. He crumpled back onto the pew, desperately trying to control his breathing. Struggling to do so he thought he was about to pass out, but something caught his ears. Succeeding in calming his breathing slightly he listened harder. Big brother mode kicking in and his own pain pushed back as he finally understood what he was hearing.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh god, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me more. Please don't send me back to her. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Dean's screams had found a way through to Sam's scarred broken mind. At seeing Dean's tears and him protecting his side, some of the fog clouding his judgment had lifted. He backed away. What had he done? His legs gave out on him and he fell to the floor, one leg caught underneath him the other leg sprawled out in front. What had he done? He started rocking himself and the words, Dean finally heard, fell from his lips.

Dean got up on unsteady legs and made his way towards Sam. He looked up sharply as the door to the church crashed open. His Dad and the others were fighting to get through.

"It's okay. I'm okay, we're okay. Go back to the house. We'll be there shortly."

He watched them leave before resuming his way towards Sam. Son of a bitch! He swore in his head as he eased his way down to the floor next to Sam. Ignoring the pull on his stitches and the throbbing in his side, he pulled his brother close.

"Hey Sammy, its okay. I'm fine; it's going to be okay. I promise."

Sam allowing his mind to push all the negative thoughts back temporarily curled into his older brother. Finding safety in his presence and solace in his smell.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please don't hurt me. Please don't send me away."

"Ssshh Sammy. You're not going anywhere; well not unless I'm going too. I won't hurt you, Sam. Like I told you, I love you brother."

"But how can you? Don't I disgust you? I can't even love myself, I find myself dirty and disgusting and sick. How can you possibly love me?"

"Because you're my whiney, bitch little brother and I'm your handsome jerk of a big brother. Nothing you ever do or say will change that. What happened wasn't your fault Sam; please don't think that it was. They were the sick ones, the disgusting ones, the dirty ones not you. You're the victim here Sam. You're not to blame for any of it."

"Dad will hate me. He won't want me as a son. He'll be disappointed in me. I let him down, dropped my guard. I was weak Dean. Dad won't want me."

"You're wrong Sammy. Dad will never hate you."

"He will Dean. I'm not strong like you and him are. I'll just keep letting him down."

"Sam, do you trust me?"

Sam took a few seconds before nodding, the delay not going unnoticed by Dean. He knew he had a hell of a lot of work to do before Sam could fully trust him again.

"Then trust in me when I say that nobody and I mean nobody, me, Dad, Caleb, Josh, Bobby, George not one of us hate you, despise you, loathe you or any other word you can come up with. We hate the people who did this to you, but not you. We love you and need you and want you deeply.

Sam looked up into his brother's eyes. His own searching for any lies, any hidden agenda's, any mistrust, any hate. At finding none he folded himself further into Dean's embrace. Dean put his arms around Sam, noticing as he did so how cold his brother was.

"Hey Sammy, what do you say we go back to the house and get you some warm clothes?"

Dean felt Sam stiffen in his arms, at the mere mention of going back, possibly seeing the others. He rubbed gently at his brother's forearms trying to increase the warmth in them.

"Sam, what's wrong? Why don't you want to go back in?"

"They know Dean, they know."

Dean knew that it would be no use denying it. Sam could read people like a book. His younger sibling would know the instant he saw the others that Dean had lied to him and he wasn't willing to do that to him.

"Yeah Sam, they do. But that doesn't mean anything to how they feel about you. Sam they think that you're one of the bravest, strongest people they know and they care for you as much as me and Dad do. Do you know that Caleb spent the whole night out side the church, just to make sure that you were safe? That George hasn't been to work since the day you were taken? That Jim has been praying for you every waking moment, even getting Josh to join him? Sam you have nothing to worry about as far as they're concerned. To them you're not disgusting or dirty. You're Sam, kind, gentle, caring, bookworm, hunter, Sam. Please let us help you."

It seemed to take an eternity but Sam finally nodded slowly.

Dean entered the kitchen first, Sam crowded behind him using his brother's body as a shield. He couldn't look at anyone, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. His heart beat faster in his chest. He knew he said yes, but he really didn't want to be here. The voices in his head were still quietly whispering words of discouragement. He needed to get out. He grasped Dean's shirt as black spots began dancing in front of his eyes. His legs began to fail and he could feel himself starting to drop.

Strong arms engulfed him suddenly and his first instinct was to fight, until he heard the voices. Voices that didn't sound disgusted, or hateful, or sickened. But were filled with love and caring and hope. He clung onto his Dad's shirt and pulled him closer, sobs shaking his thin frame. As his Dad's arms encircled him he felt Dean rubbing circles on his back. A little piece of his broken, shattered heart mending and knowing he was surrounded with love and protection and safety he allowed his eyes to close and fell into a deep sleep.

**A.N. . . . . . . Oh come on. Am I generous or what? No cliffie! Hope I'm forgiven for the long wait. Catch you later, Peanut x**


	22. Chapter 22

**Month's to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . . They thought they could rebuild there lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . . Thought my plan had succeeded and the boy's were mine, but then I woke up!**

**A.N. . . . . Sorry it's a short one. Happy reading though, Peanut x**

John had watched his youngest son desperately struggling to control his emotions and fears when he entered the kitchen. Seeing Sam falter, he'd rushed forward and caught him before he went crashing to the floor. As Sam's weak struggles gained in intensity he clung all the more harder to his baby boy, whispering words he hoped would reach his son's battered mind.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's all going to be okay. There's nobody here that will hurt you. Just relax and try to calm down. Dad's here and Dean, you're safe, you just try and sleep now. We'll still be here when you wake up."

As Sam thrust his thin body even further against his Dad's chest and his sobbing grew, John enveloped his arms even tighter around him, still whispering his words. John felt Dean crouch down beside him and watched as his eldest offered his own words and ways of comfort. Sam's sobbing eventually began to subside, but the older Winchester's still continued to offer the comfort only stopping as Sam's breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

John looked up at his oldest son for the first time since he had entered the kitchen, not surprised to find him softly crying. He could see that Dean was reaching his breaking point. Taking one of his arms from around Sam, he cupped Dean's face.

"I meant what I said Dean. It will be okay, I promise."

"You can't make that promise though, Dad. We both promised him last time that it would be okay and those promises got smashed to pieces. What's to stop somebody from her sadistic family trying again?"

"It won't happen again, Dean. We won't let it. We'll keep him safe."

"You can't say that it won't and we thought he was safe last time. He should have been safe at school but he wasn't."

"We will take extra precautions from now on. We'll no longer use the name Winchester. We'll settle for even less time than we usually do. They'll be somebody watching him at all times. When it comes time for him to return to school we'll make sure that all his teachers know to discreetly keep an eye on him. Dean, I promise you, Sam will never go through this again."

"I'm sorry but that's a promise that can be too easily broken and I will not have you giving it to Sam."

John sighed, he knew that Dean was right that the promise was not a good one to make, but he had to believe that he would be able to keep it. That Sam would never feel anything like this again. He looked back at Dean, seeing how tired he was looking he decided to drop the subject for now.

"Dean, why don't you take Sam upstairs? You look as though you're about to join him and fall asleep on the floor."

"I'm fine! And I can't."

"Dean, please. You're not fine. What do you mean you can't?"

Dean's anger subsided slightly and he looked sheepishly at the others before returning his gaze to his father.

"I wish that I could tell you that the girlie scream you heard was Sam, but it wasn't."

"Son, what the hell are you talking about? What the hell happened in that church?"

"Caleb, could you take Sam upstairs and wait with him until I've spoken to Dad?"

"Sure."

Both Winchester's watched as Caleb walked over and tenderly picked Sam up. Sam sensing the disappearance of familiar smells, familiar touch, began to murmur softly and shift in the older man's arms. The other men in the room, with the exception of John would had witnessed Caleb's considerate and soft-hearted side at Stuart's, watched in amazement as he softly and with great kindness began talking to Sam, quieting him down instantly.

As soon as they had left the room, Dean began telling the others what had happened in the church, what Sam had been feeling. How Sam's frustrations had turned from sorrow to anger. How he had lashed out at Dean, the blow to Dean's rib's that had somehow awakened a small part of Sam. How his brother, so filled with remorse had finally let Dean in and his reluctance to return to the kitchen.

"He has so many different emotions running through his head at the minute. I don't know which one to try and fix first. He's so angry, but he is fighting to contain it. I think he thinks that he will be punished if he lets it out. He is so afraid that we will all despise him, loathe him, hate him, that we no longer love him. At one point he begged me not to send him back to Sherry. I really don't think that he realizes that the last time wasn't her. He thinks he is dirty and soiled, used goods. I'm scared! He thinks we think so little of him, but he thinks even less of himself. I don't know how to begin helping him. I'm still unsure if he even wants to be helped and until he does nothing we do will work."

"But isn't the fact that he broke down, allowed you in, allowed John to hold him a start? A sign that he wants to be healed?" George asked, to which the others muttered agreements.

"Maybe, I just don't know. I wish that it could be that easy, but somehow I think it won't be, that when Sam wakes up later, it could possibly be as bad as it was at the hospital."

"I think that you're wrong Dean." Pastor Jim finally spoke up. "I think that you under estimate your brother. He wants to fight back from this and with your, our and god's help, he will."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"It's simple Dean. If Sam didn't want to fight he wouldn't have stopped the other night when he attempted to commit suicide, or he would have left last night. But he did neither. He stayed with us. I'm not saying that everything will be magically healed, that it won't take time but I do honestly believe that he will fight his way back, if for no other reason than to please you."

Dean felt tears prick his eyes at the Pastor's last sentence. He knew that what he had said was true, that Sam was a fighter, that he would find his way back to them. He looked at the man he considered a second father and spoke two words.

"Thank you."

Jim nodded his, your welcome, before turning to John. "Now, what do you say you have a look at his ribs before he passes out at the table?"

Bound ribs and a couple of Tylenol later, Dean was slowly making his way to his and Sam's room. He felt so tired he thought he would sleep for a month. As tired as he was though, he didn't miss the softly muted words coming from inside the room.

Caleb had carried on whispering to Sam all the way back up to his and Dean's room. Placing him on one of the beds he covered him with a comforter before rushing to Jim's room to get the jacket and blanket. Arriving back he wasn't surprised to find a furry lump also occupying the bed with Sam and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.

Picking Max up with one hand he quickly placed Dean's jacket and then the blanket over the top of the comforter, releasing the dog back down to the bed once he had done so. Pulling a chair over he began to delicately check over the younger boy. Moving the gauze from the numerous cuts marring Sam's face and neck he was pleased to see that the stitches were still holding. Spotting slight patches of blood on the bandages of his wrists, Caleb carefully started to un-wrap them, soothing words falling from his lips as he did so.

"Hey Sammy, you're okay buddy. You're going to make it through this and you know why? Because you are the strongest person I have ever met. I often tell you that you are like a brother to me Sam. But what I should say is that you are my brother, because that's how strongly I about you kid. I'll understand if you're happy enough with Dean, if you don't feel the same, but I'll never stop thinking of you as my brother."

Caleb cleared his throat before he carried on. "Sammy we all need you to come back to us kiddo. With out you we would all be lost. You ground us Sam, keep us from turning into the monsters we hunt. You make us want to come home safe, give us a reason to make sure we come out of every hunt alive. I hope that wherever you are that you can hear me. That you can tell how sincere I am."

Caleb had finished checking the cuts to Sam's wrists by the time he had finished his little speech, noting that although some of the stitches had opened it wouldn't do any harm to leave them for now. As he finished wrapping them back up, he spoke to Sam once more.

"Hey see that wasn't too bad now was it? Come back to us Sam, please. I love you kiddo."

Dean had arrived at the start of Caleb's musings, not wanting to embarrass the tough talking hunter he had kept his presence unknown and listened as he spoke of his love for his younger brother. As Caleb went on, Dean began to believe that Jim was right. Sam would make it back, Sam would be fine, Sam would be the happy, inquisitive, caring kid he had once been, because Dean, their Dad, Jim, Caleb, Josh, Bobby and George would make sure of it.

**A.N. . . . . . Well hope it was okay? As you can probably tell this fic is coming to an end, probably an epilogue and then finished. I thank you all for reading as usual and for all the fantastic reviews. Catch you soon, Peanut x**


	23. Epilogue

**Month's to rebuild, seconds to destroy.**

**Summary. . . . They thought that they could rebuild there lives after the Burton's died, but they thought wrong. Sequel to Dangerous Beings. Mentions of Sam's rapes and abuse in later chapters. Hurt and angst Sam and Dean. Rated T.**

**Disclaimer. . . Still belong to kripkie and still no money being made.**

**A.N. . . . . Well it's come to an end. I just have a few quick thank you's to get through:-**

**Thanks to all of you out there for all the fantastic reviews and support for this fic and also thank you to all of you who just took time out to read.**

**Red and sammysgirl thanks for all the support, suggestions and laughs.**

**Perfectharmony, keep in mind what I said in the pm. Make sure you pass!**

**Vesper, I'm glad to know that I didn't get you committed!**

**And Penguin, got your fic out, I'm waiting!**

**Now that I have got them out of the way, enjoy the short epilogue, Peanut x**

To say that breakfast the next day was hard to get through would be an understatement. Sam, after some persuasion by Dean, had agreed to join the others but his nerves and fears of rejection were still playing disturbing scenarios in his mind. He still point blank refused to look at anyone other than Dean and he wouldn't answer any questions directed his way. His hands shook so fiercely that he could barely pick up his cutlery. Even when he succeeded the shaking made it impossible for him to cut any of the food on his plate, sending pieces of bacon, egg and toast every where. His frustrations getting the better of him, Sam left the room in tears, fleeing to the safety and solitude of the bedroom.

Things had taken a turn for the worst again after that meal. Sam refused to leave the room, except to go to the bathroom. He would eat little of what was taken up to him and would refuse to let anyone but Dean or their Dad into the room. By the end of the first month John's spirit was waning, but Dean's? Dean's seemed to grow stronger with each day that passed. He would sit for hours at a time trying to engage Sam in stupid conversation topics. Anything and everything was up for discussion, be it hunts, cartoons, sports, movies, family Dean always had a different one each time. Sometimes Sam would join in even if his answers were most of the time monosyllabic, but mostly he would just sit and listen, as Dean rambled on for hours. But Dean point blank refused to give up.

Towards the end of the second month, Dean's persistence finally began to pay off. Little things began to change in Sam. Certain days Sam would come down stairs for a while. Others he would smile a smile that still didn't quite reach his eyes, but was a start. On other days he would speak to some one other than Dean and on other days he would venture outside, all be it no too far away from the house and only if there was somebody else present. It didn't seem like much, but to Dean it felt like he had won the World Series.

The only down side to Dean's joy were the nightmares. Every single night Sam would have one. Waking the whole household with his screams and cries for help. Still not knowing that it was Lesley that had taken him, it was always Sherry's name that fell from his lips, Sherry's name that he pleaded to leave him alone. All Dean could do was sit and wait until Sam had rode each one out, offering his words and his comfort but unsure if it ever got through.

It was at the end of the second month that Caleb came up with a plan that he though might just help Sam some more. So it was that Caleb, Joshua, Bobby, Jim, George, John and Dean were all congregated outside Jim's house late one evening and were watching as Sam, tears streaming down his face, burnt the video and the photographs. As the last photo curled up at the sides and burst in to flames Sam looked around at the small group, wanting to say something but the words wouldn't come.

Instead he walked up to each man one by one, and although he still felt very much uneasy in doing so, embraced them. As he reached Caleb he leant in closer and whispered words that only the two of them could hear.

"I always thought of you as my brother too, Caleb."

As Caleb's eyes filled and his head dropped, Sam moved on to his Dad, the embrace twice as hard and twice as long.

"I'm sorry Dad. I love you."

John had to choke back his own emotions before he could answer his son. "Hey Sam, you don't ever apologize for any of this, you hear me? None of this is your fault. I love you very much too."

Finally it came around to Dean. Sam stopped in front of his brother and silently conveyed with his eyes that he needed to speak privately with him. Dean, always in tune to what Sam wanted, instantly understood and asked the others if they could be excused. Walking further away from the group, the two siblings ended up sitting side by side on the hood of the Impala.

"Dean, I'm. . . . "

"Sammy, I don't want to hear to hear you apologize. Dad was right, you're not to blame. You're not the one who needs to say sorry. I am."

"What? Dean, no, Why?"

"Sam, I let you get taken again. I let you be hurt by that bitch and raped again. I broke my promise to you and for that I am truly, truly sorry. I hope that one day you can forgive me?"

"Dean, there's nothing for me to forgive you for. I never blamed you. I know that I said I did in the church, but I was hurt and angry and lashed out at you, blamed you, because you were there. I'm sorry I did that, you didn't deserve it."

"Sam. . . . "

"No, Dean, don't. Please stop blaming yourself. I know that I'm being selfish, but I need you to stop thinking that way. I need you to help me Dean. I can't do this on my own. This. . . . This ritual tonight has helped, but I still feel dirty and angry and used and hurt. I don't think I can make it if you don't help me. But for you to help me, you have to stop blaming yourself. I need you, Dean."

"Sam, whether I am blaming myself or not I'll always be there for you, brother. Every step that you take towards recovering from this, I'll be right along side you. High's and low's, I'll be there to make sure that you're okay."

"Promise?"

Dean hesitated slightly before answering. "I promise, Sam."

Sam turned to Dean and threw his arms around his brother, holding on tighter and longer than any of the previous ones. "I love you Dean."

"I love you too, Sammy."

As Dean tightened his own embrace around his brother, he wondered what the future would hold for Sam. He knew that by burning the photos and video it had helped Sam, but he also knew that they had a very, very long road ahead of them to get Sam truly back. He had been reluctant to make Sam that promise, but he had thought to himself that it was a promise that he could keep, he would be there for Sam, no matter what. Plus it was a promise he truly believed Sam needed to hear.

Neither one of the brother's could ever know though, that six years later that promise would also be shattered.

The end.

**A.N. . . . . This is the end, my friends! Well for now any way. Hey don't blame me! Blame snfan who gave me a plot bunnie!**

**Just a couple more thank you's:- Cavetrollgrl, Irish, Candy, JoyofReading and 1Pagan3. I couldn't have done it without you all pushing me! God don't I sound like I'm accepting an Oscar or something. Just thanks, Peanut x**


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